Darkest Demise
by StylingEquinox
Summary: This is a period long before Ink Exchange when Niall was still with Irial 1,200 years ago. It talks about why he left the Dark Court and what happened to him while he was there.
1. Chapter 1

I'll post the next chaper if you guys like it. Remember, reviews! It's rated M for what I may add.

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Chapter 1

Niall had been asleep in his chambers when he heard a light sound. The sound hadn't awakened him yet, it was simply a bare breeze. Suddenly he felt the sizzling euphoria of darkness surround him, hissing his name almost invitingly.

When he awoke, Irial was standing at the foot of his bed, quiet, dark eyes unspoken. Niall glanced once at the mortal by his side- a girl whose name he'd already forgotten- and then over to the Dark King. With as much grace he could muster sitting upright in a bed, he attempted a bow.

Irial almost smiled at that, but something about his dark eyes made Niall wonder of his intentions. Something was causing the shadows under them to seem more from deep thought than from worry.

When he spoke, his voice sounded contemplating, but firm- a sound that made Niall bristle. "Niall, I would like to speak to you."

Niall nodded once, solemnly, with understanding and watched Irial take his leave as silently as he arrived. There was something Niall trusted so very much about Irial. It had much to do with Irial's frankness as well as Niall's own flaws that perhaps made the Dark King so compelling. Without another word, Niall quietly got dressed, glancing back at the girl lying in his sheets. In that instant, he almost felt responsible, rude, and obnoxious for using mortals the way he and Irial often did.

The girl's face was young and fragile, like a dove's, reminding him of so many other mortal girls before her. _Kellan_, he remembered. _Her name was Kellan._ In the pit of his chest he once considered a heart, Niall felt guilt and a far greater emotion on the rise. Niall was concerned for her, concerned about where she would go to sleep at night, who would walk her home.

Niall abruptly turned away from the girl. He shouldn't care about mortals, yet he did. And it would kill him if he continued on that path. Pushing the greater latter of those thoughts in the back of his mind, Niall sought out Irial.

He wasn't even surprised to see Irial sitting in his usual position near the windowsill. The light was dim in Irial's bedroom, and the rain that touched the glass outside made the feeling even more dull. The only real color was the grey smoke that wafted from the cigarette in Irial's hand.

Niall shifted uneasily when he saw his king watching the window so intently. That look of worry was evident again- Niall just had no idea how to react to it. In all the time he'd known Irial- and he'd known Irial for a _very _long time- he'd never seen him look so thoughtful. Usually Irial was so carefree and willing to party at the drop of a hat, but now, there was something about him that- and the fact he'd waken Niall up three o' clock in the morning- made Niall wonder where that part of Irial he'd both feared and cherished had gone.

"Are you all right, my King?" Niall hesitantly approached the dark faery. When Irial did not respond, he took the large canopy bed beside him as a seat. The feel of the dark sheets comforted him.

Irial was holding onto the wooden part of the canopy as he stared out at the storm outside- the same storm that made decisive patterns in his abyss of his eyes.

"Irial?" Niall thought that Irial was going to ignore him if he chose to pry again, but Irial's response shocked him.

"Do you consider me a worthy friend, Gancanagh?"

Niall stared up at him, puzzled. "Of course. You've been nothing but kind to me." It was true. Irial had taken him away from the ingenuousness of the mortal world, had created their own world. One with pleasures and truth- A world unsweetened by lies and delusions- A world Niall would have never found if not for his help.

Irial turned to him and took another drag. "Yes. That may be true, and I praise myself for it. Though… I feel as though I've sheltered you from the truth of our court."

_Sheltered? _If Niall knew anything about himself, it was that he reveled in the impurity that was the Dark Court. There was no sheltering.

"What do you mean? I've been a part of this court for so long."

"I mean that you do not know everything there is for you to know." Irial shook his head. "This is my fault", he whispered. "But I don't want there to be lies between us, Niall."

It was one of those rare times when Irial addressed him by his first name, and every time he did, it held power.

Niall stood up then and touched Irial's shoulder. "If there is something you do not want me to know, Iri, I know that there is a reason behind it. I have faith in you."

Irial glanced at Niall's hand. The boy had so much undying hope in him that he did not deserve. He turned to face Niall fully, away from the window, and Niall let his hand drop to his side.

"You've never steered me wrong before, Irial, and for that, I have gratitude. This is all I could have ever asked for. You've given me life."

"A life that you enjoy?"

Niall paused. "It is a life I sometimes regret when I see the state of those around me. The shadows, the darkness- sometimes it affects me. Though when I am with you, I feel only the pleasurable aspects."

Irial turned his head away and took a drag off of his cigarette. "Which is what I was thinking exactly. You belong here, Niall. You and I both understand that. At first, I was hesitant as to how you would adjust. Now I can truly see how similar the two of us are."

Niall did not exactly like being compared to Irial, especially when there were so many undesirable aspects to him- even undesirable to Niall- but he thought better of speaking his thoughts aloud. Instead he said, "The transition was difficult a first, though I accepted it over time. With your help, of course."

Irial smiled wearily, his face falling. "Yes", he sighed. "You're right"

Niall did not find comfort in the way Irial held himself, so depressed, so lonely. Niall was there for him- couldn't he see that?

"Irial, I would do anything for you. You're my king, my friend. How could you feel this way? How could you doubt-"

Irial abruptly shushed him, though his tone grew gentler. "I know, Gancanagh. Your loyalty is what I cherish." Ever so lightly, he ran a finger along Niall's jaw line, and then over his eyelids.

Niall stood perfectly still, entranced by the simple affection of Irial's touch. Irial pulled back slowly, staring him in the eye. "Do you trust me enough to believe in me?"

"Yes."

"Even my faults."

"Yes." Niall was beginning to grow uneasy, unsure of what Irial was asking of him. But he loved his king, and that was all that mattered.

Irial moved back to his face, speaking against his lips. "Then I was a fool to have doubted you."

Niall did not complain when Irial's lips met his own in a light caress, nor did he wonder why his king was suddenly the most sentimental he'd ever been in all the time he'd known him. Like chicory and shadows, their mouths fused and Niall fought hard not to lose his sanity. And though the kiss was no longer than a few seconds, the sensations that fluttered Niall lasted much longer.

Irial ended the kiss, their foreheads nearly touching. "Go to sleep now, Gancanagh. I will call upon you again."

Niall was glowing, even after the strange encounter, finding it hard to break away from Irial's gaze. Finally, he made it towards the door and turned to leave. Irial's voice broke his concentration. "Niall."

Niall turned to face him. There was a dark, enigmatic edge to his friend's eyes- the part of his eyes he didn't enjoy seeing too often.

"I hope that you are as sincere as you claim to be."

With that, Niall left the room, shutting both of the double doors behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Now remember people, this is a _gay_ pairing, but for those of you who've read the book, you get Niall and Irial's old relationship. I want constructive criticism, not religious or personal views about how you don't like gays. No nonesense. Just writing critique amd story progression, kay?**

**Anyway, here it goes. You've been warned, and this is my first _actual_ attempt at yaoi or something close. Tried not to make it to visual- because I'm not good at it.**

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As Irial had promised, he did come for him again during the night. Niall had stayed up counting on the fact that he would. Almost immediately after they both made it to the bedroom, there was hunger.

Irial had removed Niall's shirt, kissing him ferociously as ever. The Dark King loved the way Niall accepted his movements so freely, and as a reward, left gentle kisses along his throat. Niall liked that and went for the hem of the Dark King's black pants, liking the feel of the material on his fingers. Irial helped him slide them off, but not before pulling off Niall's as well. When they were completely naked, Irial pressed tightly to him, crushing their hips together in a steady movement until Niall could no longer wait. He let out a moan and pushed further against his king.

Their mouths never left one another, passion as strong as the shadows wafting around them. And when Niall gave Irial access to his sensitive skin, he did so relentlessly, pleasuring him until they both emitted a cry that made them break away from the kiss. They bonded the same way they usually did when lovemaking was involved- with passion, but this time, they each felt something different.

The pent up doubt and insecurity Irial had spoken to him about was lost with each fervent touch of a hand or kiss. With each breath they shared, with each bout of pleasure, Niall could see a notable change in his king.

No one had disturbed them- of course. The Dark Court could be very private about some things- one of those things being Irial's bedroom. Only a selected few were ever called in, except on the occasion when Irial permitted it.

The two of them were both lying on Irial's bed, close, but not quite touching. Niall was flat on his stomach, entangled in its sheets, head rested on Irial's tattooed shoulder. Lying there, eyes closed, he wondered how he could have ended up this way- with such strong feelings for his king. After a time of long silence, Irial spoke.

"I was definitely wrong about you, Gancanagh. We are more alike than I've come to notice."

Niall glanced over at him. "What do you mean?" Somehow, being compared to Irial was not one of Niall's best compliments.

Irial took a breath. "Well, for one, you've grown fond of this court, accepted its faults. All the same, you aren't like the others, Niall. Not many court fey have your… ability to stay both sane and empathetic."

Niall thought about what Irial had said to him and smiled slightly. As fey weren't allowed to say 'Thank you', he replied with, "You are kind to say that."

Irial rolled his eyes. "There's a difference between truth and kindness. Don't flatter yourself."

Niall placed his head on the pillow beside Irial's. "I just find it nice that you praise me so often, Iri."

Irial turned to face him, on his side now. "I tell you many things, darling, because I care for you. I cannot ignore praise where it deserve to be given." He brushed a strand of hair from Niall's face and continued to stare off at the ceiling again. Niall began to wonder if it held a secret he did not know about.

"The Dark Court needs a new king, Gancanagh." Irial had finally stated the words that were on his mind.

Niall opened his eyes then, and sat up slowly. "What do you mean, 'A new king'? You're a perfect king. This court would suffer without your guidance, Irial."

Irial smiled, eyes closed. "That may be true. But they suffer much more _with _my guidance."

Niall was perplexed. "How can you say that? Where the Dark Court is now is all because of your doing. You made us stronger- strong enough to challenge the High Court, even."

Irial opened his eyes. "There is an uproar, Niall. If not for Gabriel's intimidation, no one would obey me. Perhaps not even you."

"That isn't true."

Irial ignored that and continued where his last thoughts left off. "War wants to replace me, Niall. She stirs mutinies as we speak."

The thought of Bananach trying to replace Irial upset him. "You can make her stop. Chain her, beat her. Whatever means necessary."

"Don't you believe we've tried that already? We can't continue to do it forever, Niall. She's determined."

"So where does this leave us then?"

"At an impasse." Irial sat up, trailing his fingers over Niall's arm. "Unless I leave my power to someone else. Someone I trust."

Niall had finally pieced the puzzle together. With shock, he sat up abruptly and pulled away. "You know that I cannot do that, Irial." His eyes were pleading, but firm.

Irial brushed a strand of dark hair from his eyes and grabbed the charcoal colored cigarette box from the nightstand. "I don't see any less of a reason."

"I won't be as good of a king as you've been." Niall did not want to tell Irial his real reasons.

Irial lit the cigarette and inhaled. "Posh. You would be better. I can _see_ it in you." Irial said he words as if he were truly _inside _of Niall's soul.

Niall felt uneasy, like his stomach was going to shrivel. "I am not a Dark King, Irial."

Irial took the cigarette from his lips. His dark eyes met Niall's. "Are you declining?" Niall could sense his agitation.

Niall set his jaw. "I can't lead this court, Irial. I'm not like you."

Irial's jaw tightened like Niall's as he ground out the cigarette on the nightstand. "Not like me?"

"Yes. I'm not like you. I can't hurt people and pretend that everything is fine. I have morals left."

Irial let out a harsh laugh, like a snake hissing. "On the contraire, boy. You hurt others like I do and you create the delusion in your mind that everything is content."

Niall's fists tightened. "What are you talking about?"

"Your precious mortals are the result of your touch, Gancanagh. Whenever you so much as caressed their lips with your own, you gave them an incentive to die. Your touch was the catalyst to their destruction, Niall. Like mine. My bruig just adds to their misfortune."

"I haven't hurt anyone."

"Says whom?" he snickered. "I see harm done. I deal with it everyday- it feeds our court." Niall hated how he said '_our _court'. "The mortals you lay with wilt away like the precious flowers they are because of _us_, Niall. And the sooner you accept your role as a Gancanagh, the better off you will be."

Niall couldn't believe his ears. Hundreds of mortals died because of him- and Irial hadn't told him a thing. "I- You told me that a Gancanagh was a family name, Irial."

"And it is. I just left out the part about its abilities, why we're so deadly"- he smiled- "to mortals. It's a part of your addictive nature, why even _I _couldn't resist you." Irial was moving closer to him, his breath on Niall's lips as if to kiss him. "You're far too beautiful for your own good, love."

Niall was tempted by their proximity, but shook off Irial's seduction. He shoved him hard- the hardest he could manage and the Dark King fell backwards with the support of his elbows. "You bastard!"

Irial smiled alluringly and touched the spot on his chest Niall's hands grazed over when pushing him. "I love your strength, Gancanagh. You're such a naughty boy."

Niall squeezed his fists until his knuckles stretched white. "Don't ever call me that again", he ground out. "I'm tired of your lies, Irial. Was this your way of sheltering me, of keeping me as your pet for decades? Lying to me?"

Niall could tell by looking at him that Irial was done with the flirting. "Fey don't lie, Niall. I withheld. Besides, you were having so much fun with your mortals- who was I to stop it?"

"I trusted you", was all Niall could whisper.

Irial looked down at the bed, and for a second, Niall thought that he felt sorry. It would have comforted him to know. But then Irial gave him a look filled with the true nature of his court- pestilence, reluctance, the death of a friendship. "Then that was your mistake. Dark fey can't be trusted."

Niall shook his head to rid himself of those words, to control the betrayal he felt whenever his eyes met Irial's. _How could he do this to me? _The only man he'd ever trusted had used him. He could barely speak. "How could you do that to them?"

Irial's eyes tightened. "To whom?"

"To mortals, to me, to everyone?"

Irial clenched his fists then, tired of Niall's talk. "I'm a Gancanagh, Niall! It's in my nature- in yours. I do not _care _about these mortals of yours. They're no more than mere playthings, something to ride when I want relaxation. Any other purpose they serve is irrelevant to me and to my court."

Niall stared back at him. "And I'm nothing more to you than a plaything- a toy for you play with when your mortals can't satisfy you?"

"No. Unlike them, Niall, I care for you."

Niall ignored him. Knowing that wouldn't change anything. "So that gives you the right to be cruel? To kill hundreds-"

"I haven't killed hundreds, Niall. _We _did. Together."

Niall moved closer to the Dark King in a maneuver that made even Irial falter for a second. "You're a heartless bastard", he hissed..

"I won't kill you, Niall, because I care for you. But do not forget that I am your king."

Niall turned his back to Irial, glancing over his shoulder. "A king of lies."

The Dark King moved delicately closer to Niall. "A king nonetheless. A king who's going to make remember just how powerful he is, Gancanagh. I made you- gave you life. You'd be nothing more than a common whore like I found you- having sex with willing mortals- without my guidance."

Niall raised his hand as if to strike his king, but faltered. It was the first time he'd dared to hit Irial.

"What are you going to do, Niall, hit me?" Irial licked his lips. "I would love any form of anger you carry."

Niall kept his fist balled, shaking with rage, guilt, and shame. His eyes glared into Irial's, who remained smiling at him. Without thinking, he pulled back his fist and swiped Irial across the face. Irial didn't really budge or appear to be hurt, but his head jerked to one the side. The hair that usually hung in his face fell over his eye.

_What did I do?_

Niall, with realization as to what he'd done, quickly grabbed his clothes and jumped from the bed. Once dressed, he ran to Irial's door, thinking only of escaping the evil he'd been admitted to.

"You're just like me, Gancanagh, whether you accept it or not. You would make a wonderful Dark King." Niall glanced back and saw Irial watching him with pretentious eyes. Niall saw the discolored bruise around the Dark King's left eye from where he'd hit him.

"I won't be any longer." Niall glanced away from his king and said the words he thought he'd never find himself saying. "I unswear my fealty to your court. You are no longer my king."

Irial's face changed, broken almost- hurt. "Niall, you don't mean that", he choked. There was a shock in his tone that Irial for once look subservient, while Niall became the one with power. Niall abruptly turned his head from him, too afraid to see Irial that weak. And then he left the Dark Court without a hope of returning.

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**REMEMBER- REVIEWS ARE KEY!**


	3. Chapter 3

Irial had not moved since Niall left the room. He was in too much of a shock to actually do something. Quietly, he lit a cigarette and stared off at the wall opposite of him covered almost completely by a mirror. Irial tried to hold himself together every time he thought of Niall actually leaving his court. The boy was an idiot, a fool to have left him. Did he not understand that he would have to pay for his actions soon enough?

Irial smiled bitterly. _What could Niall possibly do all by himself?_

Irial understood that Niall was much more intelligent than he was giving him credit for, but at the time, he was in a very irate mood. Irial touched the bruise on his eye and winced. Niall had swiped him good, far too good for Irial to be a king.

Suddenly Gabriel ran in as if there were some dire emergency to attend to. "My King, are you alright?"

Irial sighed and glanced at him. "Yes, Gabe. I'm fine."

Gabriel turned his head immediately when he realized that Irial wasn't fully clothed- even if he was covered by the afghan. "I apologize for the interruption, My Liege. Though I saw Niall leave and he was upset- like a storm had hit him."

Irial took another drag and lazily watched the wall in front of him. "Yes. He was. That is why I've called you."

Gabriel's eyes furrowed- he wasn't much of a thinker, but he listened obediently to what his king had to say.

"Bring him back here. Now."

Gabriel paused. "May I ask why?"

"Yes."

Gabriel was beginning to not understand this new Irial. He was lax, much more so than his king normally was. Normally Irial would have told him to just do his job and be quiet, but now Gabriel felt as if he did not care "Well… why do you want him back? I assume he's rescinded his fealty to your court."

Irial looked at Gabriel for the first time. "He has. But that makes him fair game now- solitary fey. He's made his decision to not be one of us, and I am simply reinforcing that assertion."

"What happens when I bring him back?" If Irial was in a good mood, then Gabe would take advantage of it.

Irial thought momentarily before saying, "We bring him to the ceremony at dawn."

Gabriel nodded once and turned toward the door to leave.

"Oh, and Gabe?"

Gabriel turned around to find Irial looking at him sternly. "Bring him alive, not the other way around. As much as the boy has angered me, his death is something I do not look forward to."

Gabriel clenched his jaw. He hated to admit it, but he was envious of Irial's closeness with Niall. It upset him to know that his king was weakened by another faery and at the same time he feared that Niall would someday replace him in Irial's heart. "Yes, My King", was all he could say.

Irial put his face in his hand briefly, swiping away the hair that covered the bruise on his face. Gabriel bristled. "He hit you and you allowed him to?"

Irial had realized that Gabe had seen the mark and quickly removed his hand. His hair fell into his eyes again. "I did not allow him to do anything", he said levelly. "I did not expect him to actually hit me, Gabe. It was sudden."

"Then why didn't you do something to him? Why did you let him leave?"

Irial sighed. Could he really tell Gabe that he cared for the faery so he'd given him free will? Or better yet, that he enjoyed the pain he received from the hit, that it fed him, made him more attracted to Niall? Instead, Irial did not answer. "Don't question my methods, Gabriel. I am your king- You do as I say."

Gabe turned and muttered something before leaving the room. Irial was still lying there, feeling the weight of Niall's words on him. Had his Gancanagh really turned against him now? Over a few mortals?

That angered him the most. He'd given Niall everything- shelter, freedom, enjoyment. Or was it his own fault for lying to the boy all of these years? Too proud to ever admit that, Irial scowled, seeing his own reflection in the mirror opposite of him.

Then his eyes felt heavy, like he were tired, and a solid tear- as dark as his eyes- ran down his cheek. Shocked by the spontaneity of the moment, he wiped the tear with the back of his hand and ran the same hand through his hair.

As much as he wanted to hurt Niall, to let the true nature of his court destroy every hope the faery once had, it was only anger that fueled his current desires. Besides making Niall suffer, Irial wanted him back in his arms again as well. But the reality of that happening ever again was impossible, and it made him miss the Gancanagh all the same.

With a loud cry, Irial threw his box of cigarettes at the wall and the mirror smashed into shards. And then he put his face into his hands as another dark tear made its way through his fingers. Irial stared at his contorted reflection in the broken mirror and tried to keep himself collected for the ceremony. Then, with much anxiety, continued to inhale the cigarette between his fingers until not an ember was left.

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**Remember to review. Also, chapter 4 is coming soon!** (Maybe tomorrow)


	4. Chapter 4

**So here's chapter 4! Reviews are wonderful!**

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Niall was all alone in the meadow, watching fey on occasion pass him by and point. He let them. They were mostly of the summer court anyway, with their short skirts and exotic colored feathers and bracelets. Niall was in too much of a depressing mood to actually care if a little girl found his lying under a tree odd.

Above him, the sky was starless, a sign that it would soon be morning time.

Niall himself did not know why he was there. But he was sure that he'd chosen the meadow for a reason. Perhaps it was the clean smell of nature that appealed to him, or the sight of the fireflies, their lights lighting up his glassy eyes. He liked the feeling of independence it gave him, having to sit amongst rows and rows of trees. Nonetheless, he stared out at the pond, almost afraid to see his reflection.

Something about laying there did not make him feel weird or even odd to say the least. More or less a feeling of safety overcame him, as if Irial's words did not hold their truth because he was alone- for the first time in years- without him.

One summer faery in particular had giggled at him and had passed by with her friends only to return later and watch him from across the pond with curious eyes. Niall sat up from his position on the forest floor, leaning his back against the bark, and met her gaze. He expected her to get scared then, to run off into the trees.

But she didn't. This faery smiled at him naively, as only a Summer girl could and waved . The simplest gesture from such a young girl made him want to run as he remembered Irial's words, "I haven't killed hundreds, Niall. We did. Together."

Plain and simple, he was a monster, one who could surely hurt this summer girl if he chose. But Niall knew, as if with sudden realization, that he would not hurt her because he cared. _I may be a monster, but I can control it._

Niall lazily lifted a hand, and with a flick of the wrist, waved back at her. The girl smiled shyly and her golden locks covered her face. Niall stared then, at his reflection in the cold water and ran his fingers through his coarse brown hair. The wide, brown eyes and lashes stared back at him. It had been a while since he'd acknowledged his own attractiveness, since he'd wooed so many girls without having to do much on his part.

Niall touched his face slowly to make sure that it was his. Though when he stared across the pond again, the summer girl was gone, and so was his last hope that maybe he wouldn't be alone for the day.

Niall sighed and hung his head. The shame of what Irial had told him, had done to him, should have been enough to make crack the calm mask he always wore. But it did not. Somehow, he looked as if he didn't care about the events of the day, and Niall was beginning to see Irial's point. _Maybe I'm more like him than I'd hoped._

"Hello." The voice was bubbly and bright, enough to make his head shoot up. Sitting beside him was the summer girl he'd waved at. She seemingly materialized out of thin air, so close to him, he had to glance at their proximity and then back to her face. It was an understatement to say that he felt uncomfortable.

Weakly, he said, "Hello." She smiled at him again, a white, child's smile that made talking to her appear to be even more of a sin for Niall. She did not deserve his malice. "I'm Anvia", she mentioned when he did not speak to her. "What is your name?"

Niall took a small breath and tried not to show her any affection. It would be a shame if she took his gestures in the same way the others had when he was with Irial. "Niall", he answered brusquely.

"Oh." The girl swayed her legs back and forth in the pond beneath her feet. "That's a nice name", she answered, glancing up at him.

Niall shrugged. "I suppose." He really didn't want to have a conversation with her at the moment, since he felt so hurt. She would see it.

Anvia studied his face with interest. "I know you", she answered fondly.

Niall looked at her. "What?"

Anvia slouched from the intensity of his gaze. "Well I don't actually know you, if that's what you mean. But I've seen you before. With the Dark King."

The mentioning of Irial's name brought fire and guilt to Niall's eyes as he remembered striking his old king. "The Dark King and I often frequented places at night, in parts of the land that are unsafe for your kind. You should not have followed us."

Anvia's wide eyes remained wide and she did not look like most would look after being chastised. "Well, sometimes I snuck out and saw the two of you, but other times I caught you speaking to pretty girls."

That made Niall sad. "Yes. I suppose you would see that."

She looked more shy now. "Were any of these girls summer girls?" she asked.

Niall looked regretful. "Yes. But Irial isn't very selective when it comes to girls."

Anvia smiled impishly. "Are you?"

Niall looked at her and her cheeks colored. "Yes. In some ways I am." He wanted to ask her why she wanted to know his preferences, but he already knew the answer; she was attracted to him. _How interesting,_ he thought bitterly. He has only been away from the Dark Court for about an hour and he attracts the attention of yet another girl.

"Do you like meadows? I enjoy this one because of its beautiful scenery. 'Tis such a-

Niall gave her a stern look, one of exhaustion and angst. "Could we not talk for a while?"

The girl bit her lip and looked down. "Okay." Niall saw her glancing at him when he wasn't looking.

Niall continued to stare off at the monster in the water and felt even more depressed than he had before. Flashbacks of mortal girls came surging at him, reminding him of the times he'd taken their virtue and they'd laughed, too drunken to care, too foolish to understand the consequence the contact of his skin would make. Before he realized, Niall's eyes were watering, making the darkness of them look like a chasm of ink.

Anvia was concerned. "Why are you crying?"

Niall's jaw tightened. "I'm not crying."

"Then are you sad?"

Niall let out a sharp laugh. Her use of childish words for adult feelings made him almost smile. "You can say that, yes."

Anvia continued to move the tip of her foot around in the clear pond beneath her feet and played with her hair. "So… are you still friends with the Dark King?"

Niall shook his head quietly. "No."

The girl stopped dangling her legs and moved closer to him- a lot closer than he expected. "Can I be your friend?"

Niall stared up at the night sky and then turned his gaze to hers. He noticed that her eyes were jade green. "I'm not very good at keeping friends, Anvia. I've learned that the hard way."

Her eyes dimmed and she pulled back from him. "It is best that you find friends of your own court."

"But-" she began.

Niall's eyes softened the best they could at the time. "You should get home now. I am sure that your king expects you." The hurt in Anvia's eyes was evident, but Niall tried not to care.

"I apologize", he told her sincerely. And he was. For everything. In that sorry, he'd apologized to everyone he'd wronged, the mortals, the fey, and himself.

Anvia stood up quietly to go home, sparing Niall a glance, when two large hands grabbed her by the throat. She screamed, dangling in the large man's arms. Niall sprung himself from the tree, apt to fight, his muscles tense. He paused when he saw that the hound in front of him was definitely of the Dark Court. "Gabriel", he muted as he stared at the well known ally.

The hound choked the girl further until hot tears as glowing as sunlight streamed down her face. "You aren't that smart, boy- to strike a king. Did you really think that we would not find you?"

_We?_ Then Niall understood. Irial had sent Gabriel after him. In the shadows of the tall trees behind the hound, lay several other hounds, all deadly, all minions of the Dark Court.

Niall's eyes narrowed. "Gabriel, what are you doing? Leave her alone", he pleaded. "She's done nothing wrong."

"See? Always the conservative one. She hasn't done anything wrong, but that is not the point. She'll make good fun for Irial's ceremony. Summer girls always do."

"Ceremony? He cannot just do that to them. It isn't-"

The hound dropped the girl onto the ground unconscious and grabbed Niall by the throat. "I am starting to get tired of you telling me what our king can and cannot do."

Niall couldn't breathe with Gabriel holding him so tightly. He tried to push Gabriel off of him, even as his struggle did not work. "Why are you doing this?" He'd known why Gabriel had appeared; Irial's orders were written precisely on the hounds arm. But stalling was Niall's best option.

"Irial's orders", Gabriel answered plainly. "You of all people should know that."

Niall tried to push Gabriel away from him, and when that failed, stopped fighting. "I do not understand. I am no longer in your court", he said through ground teeth. That was exactly why he'd left Irial's court- to start anew, to escape the pain. Not to entice it.

"That matters little, Gancanagh. My king isn't done with you yet. You left so soon, he didn't get a chance to say goodbye." Then with enough force to kill a human, Gabriel punched Niall in the cavity of his chest, causing him to spit up blood, and rendered him unconscious. The last thing Niall saw was Anvia on the ground, the wind blowing her skirt, and the red eyes of the hounds lurking in the distance.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is not light- meaning that what happens in it may not appeal to everyone. I wasn't very graphic about some things I _could_ have been graphic about, so I should at least get points for trying. But only criticize the writing. That is all I ask. Enjoy and don't forget that reviews fuel my writing. The sixth chapter is on its way.**

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Niall was hardly awake as he felt himself being dragged by both arms along the stone corridor. Nothing inside of him could make him grow strong and run, as the air was practically stolen from his lungs. Heavily lidded eyes glimpsed mere surroundings, telling him that he as now within the castle perimeter that was the Dark Court. At any other moment, Niall would have sighed with frustration, but now, unable to move, being dragged by strong hands, he said nothing. There was nothing to say.

He heard a gruff voice from behind him- probably one of the men who had him bound- shout out orders to some neighboring fey. Niall forced himself to open his eyelids more and caught flashes of fey cackling at the sides of his vision- their voices echoing through the hall.

"Look", he heard them whisper. "It's Irial's companion."

Niall groaned as one of the guards jerked him roughly to one side. Before he knew it, he was being thrown into a cell within the Dark Court's dungeon, cold and solitary. Niall lay on the ground for quite sometime, unable to recover from Gabriel's hit. He caught a glimpse of the moonlight spilling through the cell's only window and wished that it were the same moonlight veil that would allow him to escape to Faerie. But then he sighed brokenly.

He would not be welcomed in Sorcha's presence, not with his history with Irial.

Niall managed to sit up, at least, and wipe most of the warm blood from his lips. The stone walls were cold and unwelcoming to his back, especially through his thin shirt. Before he'd run away, he'd forgotten to take spare clothes with him.

_I am a fool_, he thought, watching the moonlight again. In the pit of his chest, Niall was frightened. Irial had Gabriel bring him back for a reason, a reason much more intricate than just talking to him. There was always a plan with Irial.

Niall coughed and more blood had come up- not as much as the last time- but enough to make him weaker. He stretched the muscles in his arm, where Gabriel had gripped him too tightly and stood up slowly. The cell, he noticed, was not that large, and was very damp. He could only imagine the gruesome torturing that took place before he arrived.

"Get up, Niall." It was Gabriel. He was standing next to the startled faery in the blink of an eye, his hound tattoos moving on his arm. "Irial wants you."

Niall refused to move, showing his repudiation with a narrowing of the eyes. "I am not going anywhere."

Gabriel was taken aback for a moment. Niall's sudden abrasiveness was rarely seen when it came to orders. Gabriel quickly washed the look of independence from Niall's face by grabbing him by the hair and dragging him from the cell. Niall shouted curses at him, but the hound remained insensitive, tugging at it even rougher than before. He stopped walking when he reached two large doors, doors Niall had never seen before his entire stay at the Dark Court.

These doors were meticulously carved from the most beautiful of bone, but bleached to the color of tar. They reminded Niall of the shadowy dancers that always lingered in Irial's presence, very peculiar.

Gabriel took no time to admire the craftsmanship as he burst the doors open, dragging an obstinate Niall in with him. Gabriel dropped him to the ground at once and left to stand beside Irial, who Niall just noticed was sitting in a raised chair that resembled a dais. Niall sat up slowly to glance around at his surroundings and was sickened. Mortals of even the youngest of ages were grappling all-too-willing fey, a dark, voracious hunger in their eyes. These girls and boys the same looked starved and deprived of all mortal necessities, their torn clothing being removed as they gave themselves to dark fey in ways unimaginable.

Niall could only gasp and stare around in confusion. He wanted to close his eyes forever, to rid them of these gruesome memories, but then they met the Dark King's.

"You could rule my court someday, Gancanagh", Irial stated. He said it the same way he had before Niall had left, as if there were some hope left in him still returning.

Niall stared at him, unsure of what to say. "I-" He faltered, still struck by the increasing number of sickened mortals being brought forth around him.

Irial just was sitting there, not doing anything as these people were being used as sexual ornaments of sorts. Niall immediately stopped kneeling and stood up as securely as he could. "Irial, what is this?" he barely spoke.

The Dark King's eyes were completely black now, as black as his heart. "My bruig", he answered in the faintest voice, a voice hardly heard over the moans of the room.

Niall tightened his eyes, too disgusted to speak. "Why would you let this happen to these people? They've done nothing to deserve this!"-Niall pointed to one example in particular- a group of dark fey having sex with a young girl. She was too addicted to realize the pain she was admitting herself to.

Irial lifted his chin. "You would say that, wouldn't you, Gancanagh?"

Niall took a step forward, his anger visible on his face. "I told you never to call me that again, Irial. I am no longer yours to command."

"Are you, now?" The Dark King took a step down from his pedestal and was in Niall's face in the blink of an eye. Niall had almost forgotten how quick shadows could be. "You being solitary is the best choice for this court, Niall. It helped me better recognize your true calling."

Niall glared at his once-friend, as the men were equal in height. "What are you saying, Irial? I'm not going to play these word games with you."

Irial sneered at him, but beneath it, Niall could sense frustration. "The realization that you would choose these mortals over your own kind."

Niall couldn't tell is by _own kind_ he meant dark fey or gancanaghs like themselves. "I am not choosing anyone, Irial. I am choosing what is right."

Irial did not justify that with a response. Instead, he leaned into Niall's face, speaking near his earlobe. "Linger with us", he whispered in a voice reserved for forbidden rooms and candlelit nights. He moved his face to Niall's, their noses brushing, his mouth close to his. "This is where you belong. With me. Nothing has changed." His breath tickled Niall's lips as he spoke, and then with an emphasized slowness pressed their lips together. Niall's knees went weak as Irial's hand slithered to his waist.

He kept telling himself that he shouldn't be kissing Irial, that the Dark King was no longer a confidant. _He can no longer be trusted._ He couldn't move himself, though, even as Irial's tongue slid into his mouth. Niall slightly shook his head, trying to pull away from the shadowy dancers that were slowly leaving sensual trails along his body. He tried to repeat the words in his head again, to make them matter. _He can no longer be trusted._

With implied force, Niall's hands pressed to Irial's chest, intent on pushing him away. "No", Niall said, staggering backwards. "I've told you- I'm not like you, Irial." The statement was less forced this time, with more power and fury.

Irial looked merely bored as he turned his back on Niall and returned to his throne as quickly as he'd left it. Niall was less than prepared for what his king would say next.

"You entertain the court or they can, Gancanagh. Fear and pain is the coin for their ransom. It matters little to me who pays it."

Niall staggered backwards again, bewildered. "What?" Fear rose from his stomach.

Irial's words were cold and precise. "You want their freedom. You care more for mortals than for your king. Then you shall be the one to set them free, Niall. At a cost."

"But I can't just-"

For the first time, Irial looked truly furious. "You cannot take back your word, Niall. Do you want them free or bound to me? Make your decision."

Niall glanced behind him and saw the mortals crying, moaning, groaning. It all disgusted him, made him feel waves of guilt until he himself felt like crying. "I can't give myself to your court, Irial. You know what will happen to me if I do."

"Yes, I do. The same thing that is happening to them. Is that what you want, though- your precious mortals to suffer?" There was a coldness as well as a sardonic tone to Irial's voice.

Niall shook his head and turned his back on his old king-"I refuse to add to anyone's misfortune."- And then he began to walk to the two doors, to escape. Two glastaigs stepped in front of his path, causing Niall to falter and glance back at Irial. Fear arose in the pit of his stomach, something he knew he'd feel sooner or later. He slowly turned to face the Dark King, whose face was watchful and decisive. "What do you really want from me, Irial?"

Irial did not answer his question at first, but gave Niall a silent glare. "I want you to embrace what you are."

Niall breathing heaved and he stared at his king unsurely. "I know what I am."

"Do you, Gancanagh? I have the impression that you want to rid yourself of the demons you've be exposed to during your stay at the Dark Court. You want to purify yourself."

Niall closed his eyes and opened them, and then repeated the words he'd stated so many times. "I'm not like you, Irial. I do not want your condolences anymore. If you have no further use for me, let me leave."

"Who says that you are not useful, Niall? And who says that I want to let you go?"

Niall glared at him tightly. "I left for a reason. I will not go back."

Irial's temper was flaring as well, seen as his fingers gripped the chair arm. "You will do whatever it is I tell you to do, Niall. You have no power."

"Nor do you. You aren't my king."

Irial did not speak for a moment. He wasn't Niall's king anymore. But that didn't matter to him- Niall was too close to him to be let go. "You haven't decided yet", he ground out. "Who do you want to save more: your mortals or yourself?"

"Both", Niall hissed. "Why do you continue to put me in situations like this?"

"Because… I hate it when you try to hide your emotions from me, Gancanagh. I know you- I feel your passions, your dislikes. Our bond is that strong. The fact that you can stand here now and make it so very clear how different we both are angers me. This is my last kind question for you, Niall. And it is the last time I will ask you: Choose."

Niall glanced back at the mortals he'd addicted and grimaced. Then his brows furrowed and he stared past Irial to clear his thoughts.

"Now, Niall."

"I- Who says that you would keep your word?"

"Fey don't lie, Niall."

Niall glanced back at the mortals once again. The were merely children, young and foolish. He watched, feeling tears well in his eyes as he thought about his own family, the family he never mentioned. He could not remember his father, but remembered his mother up to a time. And then she disappeared and he went off on his own. That was how he found Irial.

The faces reminded him so much of them, even as he hadn't seen his family in centuries. Suddenly, he was taken away from his thoughts. Gabriel was pulling a girl from out of the mob of people. Her hair was golden, her locks matted to her face. She barely struggled in his hands, remaining limp and hardly alive. Niall's eyes met two jade green eyes that were bright, but sickly.

Anvia stared back at him lazily, as if drugged. Gabriel brought a blade to her throat. The tears dried up in Niall's face, barely breaking the surface as he watched her. "Please, Irial. Leave her out of this."

Irial did not say a thing. His face remained the same way it was before Niall had spoken. "Now you share affection for summer girls", he snorted. "I should have guessed that you were too poisoned to change."

"Is my fealty what you want?" he choked, hoping to bargain the release of the girl- even if it would hurt him in return.

Irial gave Niall an expression filled with anger, boredom, and regality. "You know what you must do to save her, Niall." He gestured around the room. "All of them. My court must be fed, and it matters little to me who feeds us, but nevertheless, it will take place. _This _will take place."

Niall took a step forward, glancing at Anvia with troubled eyes, Then he got down on one knee and kept his head down, kneeling to Irial. Niall was much too afraid to make eye contact with Anvia and the others; the guilt and shame of what he'd done to them was too much to bear. _This is for good. I am a good person._

"I will save them", he said in a quiet voice. "I give myself to the court."

When Niall lifted his head and saw Irial's eyes, he was confused. The Dark King looked surprised, as if he'd expected it from him, but doubted that Niall would actually agree on his terms. "Are you sure, Niall. Would you really risk that much for a few mortals?"

Niall glared then and spat the words. "What choice have I? If I say no, you're going to kill her and let the others be brutally debased . You wanted things to turn out this way."

Irial was merely amused. "I suppose you would say that", he growled. Then, with cue Niall missed, Irial stood up from his throne and gestured for the release of the mortals. Fey Who'd been enjoying themselves paused angrily, reluctant of Irial's orders. Gabriel shooed them all out, faery and mortal alike, with a single glare. Once all of the mortals been released, detangled from their faery lovers, the dark fey all stared at Niall in what seemed to be an unorganized ring, unsatisfied hunger in their eyes.

Niall felt every muscle in his body bristle. Their evil, condemning eyes remained tightly on him, taking him in. He swallowed slowly, looking once at Irial as if for reassurance, but his king gave no words of regret or discouragement for the way his fey watched Niall. Irial watched intuitively himself, like a king callously awaiting his entertainment.

Niall slowly backed away from the circle of fey, but paused when he acknowledged how trapped he truly was. There was but one narrow space between the bodies of two glastaigs, and even that would not offer him a plausible escape. But he'd vowed to do it, to free the morals. He couldn't take back his word- fey did not lie.

Niall felt alone, isolated, a target for sin as the dark faeries began to take slow, lingering steps toward him. He would fight them off, run. Irial wanted pain and suffering, but Niall would not give it to him easily. He tensed, truly frightened the most he'd ever been in the Dark Court, and tried to fight back tears.

And then Gabriel had stepped into the circle, the Dark fey making a large enough margin for him to pass. Niall paused, staring at the hound before he could completely comprehend what was happening.

"Your love for mortals is truly shameful, boy", he commented. Gabriel pulled a bone knife from the pouch at his hip and the blade shimmered against the dimness of the room. Niall had taken a step back in fear, his eyes burning with forewarning as he took in for the first time the size of the hound. Then without warning, Gabriel grabbed Niall roughly by the hair as he had in the dungeon, causing the faery to cry out. With a glance at Irial- and a sight of his approval- his face went dark as his knife sliced into the skin of the Niall's cheek.

Niall screamed in pain, but even that did not stop Gabriel from carving it deeper, dragging it jaggedly to a halt near his mouth. Gabriel kept him held longer than necessary just to hear him make sounds of pain. Then he dropped him flagrantly onto the ground and resumed his position beside Irial.

Niall felt the blood run down his face, searing his skin like a salted wound and cried softly as he fought to keep his eyes open. The blood on his hands made it difficult to push himself up from the cold floor. Sweat beads clung to his skin, as if the true nature of what would happen to him had flashed into his head.

Niall tried to crawl away toward his only chance of escape when a hand grabbed him by the throat. The faery holding him was much stronger he was, and Niall had not seen him many times in the past. Nonetheless, the horns and pitch black eyes were enough to raise Niall's sense of anxiety. He licked his lips as only Dark fey did and pulled the gancanagh closer to his body. Niall was in too much pain to register what was happening when another grabbed his arm and did the same. It was then, pain or not, Niall decided to fight, striking the first in the face before trying to make an escape for the exit.

This time, the margin of space was empty and he easily slid through the two glastiaigs- at the doors he'd almost reached salvation.

But then another court faery grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him back to the crowd. Niall fought and struggled. "NO", he said in the strongest voice he could manage through the pain. "Please, no. I've given you pain and suffering, Irial. Let me go." Even as he was being dragged forcibly toward the circle, it was obvious that he was speaking to the Dark King. "Irial, please", he begged.

The king stared at Niall as the fey began to assault him, some kicking him in the chest and ribs, leaving him bloodied and bruised. "You've made your decision", he said simply. There was so much cold an malice in his voice, Niall shuddered.

Niall continued to fight helplessly against the fey as they grabbed for him, tearing his flesh, his clothes, inflicting him. When they cackled at him, Niall tried to escape. The lust and desire in their eyes did not fade as easily as his hopes had. Niall prayed that someone would save him as one faery in particular had begun to clutch is face forcefully kiss him. Niall was more upset than helpless, but was outnumbered, and felt the loss of control as their hands slithered over him.

When they inflicted him with pain, he screamed in agony, trying still to escape their clutches. The room was filled with the wicked pool of laughter, Niall's pain as they violated every personal boundary he'd once held. Niall's cries became more desperate pleas, something he hadn't expected of himself- not in this court. But he was wrong. The fey were so much stronger than he was, poison seeping into him as he could do nothing else but allow them to hold him down, to take away his privilege, to degrade him so. He begged them to stop- they beat him more. His screams, anguish and torment- they meant nothing to his attackers as they made him victim to the Dark Court's true nature.

What disgusted Niall even more was the fact that Irial had allowed them to hurt him, had watched the entire ordeal no more than twenty feet away.

It seemed like hours until the fey finally dispersed, after all having had their turns. Niall could barely move, his body telling him not to. Slowly he curled up on the ground, taking the little clothes the left on him for comfort, his back to Irial. He said nothing as the tears dried to his face, as new tears formed and scorched the slash Gabriel had given him on the side of his face. Niall had no way of comprehending what had happened to him, not completely.

Niall felt alone, broken. He remained that way on the ground for a time he couldn't even measure, and then heard Irial's voice. "A good king makes hard decisions, Niall. And a fool rejects his own kind."

He didn't want to hear that, though. Niall's chest was so tight, he could barely breathe, and as he heard Irial's approaching footsteps, that feeling of paranoia only increased. Irial came to stoop beside him, almost in an oddly comforting way that made the situation more tense for Niall. Irial gently stroked a strand of Niall's hair and the faery winced at his touch almost fearfully.

Irial did not say anything to Niall then, and stood up to walk back to his throne with regality. One seated, he looked at Niall and said, "You've chosen to leave this court, Niall. But I would always be delighted to welcome you back. Do you swear fealty to the Dark Court, Gancanagh?"

Niall felt suddenly tired, like he would pass out, when Irial asked he question. How could he join this court again after what they'd done to him? _How can I ever find it in my heart to be around Irial after what he's done to me?_ Niall felt nauseous, like the taste of what was to come had graced his tongue. With a slowness, he turned to face Irial, his eyes too afraid to look into the eyes of his king. "No. I can't stay here. Not anymore." His voice was pleading a hope that Irial wouldn't take offense, hat he would just let him go.

Irial, surprisingly, did not order for him to be hurt again. Instead, he gestured toward Gabriel, and the hound stepped out toward Niall. As he took a step forward, Niall stumbled fearfully backwards. He saw Irial nod once to the hound, as he had before, and before Niall realized, he was being dragged out of the room, past the dark fey who'd scarred him, and out of the doors of the ruin of a castle that was the Dark Court.


	6. Chapter 6

**So here's chapter six. You should like it- I liked writing it:) Also- if you haven't noted before- this takes places 900 years ago, before Keenan was born. There are no light bulbs and electronics. Just wanted to fix the setting, in case some of you did not know. Well, that's it. and rememebr, reviews matter. I'll try to post chapter seven as soon as I get inspiration.**

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It was snowing when Gabriel threw Niall onto the cold ground. The hound did not spare him a second glance as he returned to the shadowy citadel that was the Dark Court. Grayed sunlight poured into Niall's eyes as he lay in the blanket of cold snow. His lips were dry, his body ached involuntarily. He could hardly speak. His blood stained the snow.

The snowflakes continued to fall over him, both claiming and chilling his body, but Niall could not find a way to make himself care. With a slowness that was the result of the brutality he'd faced, Niall pulled himself from the ground, clutching his clothes insecurely to his body.

He looked out along the long stretch of white land surrounded by trees and felt his body convulse uncontrollably from the cold. _I have nowhere to go._

Niall walked quietly through the snowfall, his fingers almost frostbitten from the cold, and stopped to rest beside a tree. There was no way that he could survive under such harsh conditions unless he found shelter, and there were none for miles.

His hopes fleeted as fast as he'd been wandering. There was no place for him to go, and the more Niall told himself that, the more regretted declining Irial's invitation. Niall watched the sky and noticed that the sun was slowly rising overhead, casting red shadows over the snow. Before he could enjoy the memory, Niall collapsed, unable to hold himself up. Fresh blood seeped down his arm from a tear one of the fey had given him. Niall's dried tears confirmed that he was now officially broken, no longer as strong as he'd thought. With a weakness that he was unable to control, Niall let his eyes drift closed, forgetting the snow around him, not caring whether or not he froze.

_No one cares for me._

He was barely asleep for a full minute when a light shone brightly in his line of vision. It was like sunlight after the sun had resurfaced, glowing like red hot embers. It lit a blinding path to him as it walked, leaving his eyes temporarily dazed. Then the light spoke to him, and for the first time in centuries, he believed in a God.

"What is your name?"

Niall tried to shake his head to rid himself of the inability to think. "N-Niall", he stuttered weakly.

As the light became more prominent, he realized that it was the swiftly image of a faery, a powerful one at that. The faerie was older, but not noticeably older than he himself was. The details of his face were hard to make out due to the light, but Niall noticed that the man had bronzed hair, resembling hot coils. Niall had seen him before when he was with Irial, but only on the rarest occasion. King Miach, the Summer King, stood before him like the sun itself, his insides glowing. When the faerie held out a hand, Niall was afraid to take it. His fear showed.

King Miach simply smiled. "It's alright. I will not hurt you- you have my vow."

Niall glanced once at the king and then allowed himself to be pulled up from the snowy ground. "I apologize", he said in the strongest voice he could manage.

Miach ignored him and pointed to the carriage that awaited several feet behind them. "Do you have a place to live?"

Niall thought. He had lived with Irial. He was still welcomed in the Dark Court- but he'd rejected that offer. Truthfully, he was without a home and a king. "No", he answered. "I-" He cut himself off.

Miach had taken off his jacket and draped it over Niall's slouched shoulders. The heat from it instantly warmed Niall, who had been shivering prior to its placement. "Come with me", he said simply. "I will shelter you." The Summer King began to walk off toward the carriage without having to tell Niall to follow him. It was obvious that he would.

As Niall approached the horse-drawn carriage, he bristled. "May I ask where we are going?" It was difficult for him to trust anyone at this point, especially another faerie king.

The Summer King's light dimmed for a moment as he answered. "My humble abode- my court. What court are you in?" His glowing eyes were curious, not judging. It comforted Niall.

"I am no longer in a court", he answered. "I once held fealty in the Dark Court, My Liege, though I am no longer a part of it."

Miach nodded once as a rowan servant held the door open for them both. Niall stepped into the carriage, warmth radiating over him in a way he thought he'd never feel. Miach followed quietly after. He Summer King did not prod him as the carriage began to drive off, nor did he stare at Niall condescendingly. His voice was scarcely heard except to ask if Niall were more comfortable.

Niall stared out against the passing trees, covered entirely with white dust from the previous storm. The farther away they were from the Dark Court, the more Niall felt comfort.

Though still, in the pit of his chest, was the fear and shame he could not rid himself of. Memories of the event flashed through his head like a rising tide, leaving him vulnerable again, this time in front of the Summer King. Miach glanced at Niall, and the faery found it difficult to meet the foreign king's eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears that threatened to fall from them. He didn't shed tears though- they would burn the slash on his face, and King Miach would take notice. Instead Niall held on to the king's jacket and his own torn clothing for support. In little less than no time, he'd fallen asleep.

Miach's voice awoke him. "We are here."

From his window, Niall saw a palace made of the most precious of Earth's stones, now covered completely in snow. Gems adorned small parts of its castle towers, and a golden archway led into a large, intricate gate. It was much larger than the Dark Court, he noticed, with twice the beauty.

Miach's servant opened the door for them both. Niall, being courteous, stayed still to allow the King leave first. Though Miach gestured him out, closing the carriage door swiftly behind him.

Niall followed Miach to the golden arch, with led into a series of intricate halls and duplexes. Miach stopped at a vacant room, large and ornamented with gold patchwork. Niall was taken aback by the fairly angelic design of the entire castle, as well as its authentic attributes. _It is truly nothing like the Dark Court._

Miach gestured toward the large room and turned to face Niall. "You may dwell here until you find shelter. I will send a servant to tend to your wounds."

Niall had no idea what to respond with. Should he thank his new king for his kindness or question it suspiciously, ponder the motivation behind it? With dry lips he answered, "You are kind. I am forever in your gratitude."

Miach did not smile or frown at Niall's strong words. Instead, he gave the faery a light pat on the back and nodded once. "I understand." He'd begun to walk away, leaving Niall speechless, when he spoke in a quietly distant voice. "I will come for you later- to speak to you, if you are ready to speak."

Niall looked at the ground, a habit that was firmly being instituted whenever he thought of the incident. "Yes", he answered quietly. "I will."

Then King Miach was gone, no more than a mere light in the golden hall. Still trembling with a flashback, Niall stepped into the room and took a seat on its bed. The feel of the satin covers made some of the pain evaporate from his skin. Niall stared in awe at the purity of the room he sat in- it wasn't morbid an necromantic like the Dark Court's rooms often were, nor did it lack benefit. Large vines draped throughout the ceiling like ball decorations, each vine with its own touch of green. Long stalks hung from the rafters, birds flew from nooks and crannies, chirping merrily. It was like a summer dream come true for Niall, something pure and untainted that finally felt real to him.

Niall was afraid to touch any of the beautiful things, though. He did not want any of his impurity to rub off on the exotic birds or on the golden archways. _They are fine without my interference._

A servant girl was at the door, her light hair reminding him of Anvia. He shook his head bitterly as he thought of the summer girl who'd been victim of the Dark Court. In his heart, he hoped that she were safe, but knew honestly that she would never be after that experience.

The girl that entered was quiet, either too afraid to meet his gaze or taken aback by his bruises. She walked in with her eyes down, but that didn't stop him from seeing that they were green. _Green like the vines_, he thought.

Niall thought of saying something to her, but chose not to. She would probably cringe away from him. The servant had a cloth and bowl with her, as well as several utensils. Niall could sense the amount of pain that would come from those tools, but did not say anything more about them.

The girl wet the cloth slowly, allowing it to soak in water, and then ran it over the blotches of blood on his arm. She repeated the same thing until all that was left were the open cuts on his arm, clear for her to stitch up. Niall expected her to take a long time patching up his arms, but she worked meticulously- and in extreme silence. As her small fingers worked, Niall couldn't help but wonder how long she'd been in the Summer Court.

When he came back from that musing, both of his arms were stitched, and she was dipping the cloth again. While she was off guard, Niall asked her the question.

"How long have you worked for King Miach?"

She stared up at him. "For little over a year now."

That amused him. He could have sworn she were more experienced in the court. "What court did you belong to before?"

She bit her lip as she stared at him, still holding his arm. "I was solitary", she admitted, blushing. _Why is she blushing? _She tilted her head slightly to see his eyes. "What about you?"

Niall knew that it would come to this, but reluctantly said, "The Dark Court."

The girl visibly shuddered then. Out of sympathy or fear- he did not know. "Aren't they bad?" she asked in quiet child's voice. "Don't they hurt people?"

Niall stared off, past her, caught in his own thoughts. His eyes were wetting with the remembrance of what they'd done to him. "Yes."

She didn't ask him any other questions- like she was pretending to not see his pain in order to give him privacy. She wet the cloth again and brought it to his face. Niall winced at the contact of the open wound and the material. She paused for the slightest instant, staring into his dark eyes, and then continued.

"Perhaps I should tend to the rest of my wounds", he suggested in a strained voice. There were far too many for her to care for- some in places she did not know of.

The summer faery finished sewing the last stitch of the long line along his face and paused again, her hair falling into her face. She lifted her hand to his scar and- before Niall could move away- dropped it back to her side. "You should not be ashamed to bear scars. We all do."

Niall had nothing to say to her. She was so young, how could she possibly understand what he'd gone through? Instead of discouraging her, he smiled kindly. "I know. That is what makes us ourselves."

The girl continue to stare at his eyes though, like that held some secret she were intrigued by. She carefully leaned in toward Niall and he was unsure of how to react. She was moving closer, closer than he expected a summer faery to move knowing that he was of the Dark Court. _To kiss me? _He had to wonder what was going to happen. Cautiously, Niall pushed out his hands and held her in place. "Stop."

"Ria, I think that our guest has required enough of your skills." Niall and the faery were both startled by the Summer King's sudden appearance at the doorway. Ria hurriedly grabbed her bowl and utensils and scampered from the room.

Niall remained still, breathless, embarrassed. "She does her job well."

Miach nodded. "Nia is a very fast worker, which is partly why I assigned her to you." He took a step into the room and smiled at one of the yellow cockatoos that were swooping down from one of the rafters. The bird landed on his shoulder. "This is all yours for the time being, Niall. Know that I do not often hand out my condolences to others. This is a kindness of mine."

Niall tilted his at Summer King, watching him stand by the window to watch the idle snowfall. "Why do you choose to offer such condolences now- if I may ask, My Liege?"

Miach glanced once at Niall and then sat in the window ledge. "I see something in you, Niall- A fighter. One who has strength. You may not see these things yet due to your experiences, though through the eyes of a king, you are truly an asset. To any court."

Niall couldn't help but feel guilty and flattered in spite of everything. Would Miach think kindly of him when he explained his story, when he spoke of his horrible past with Irial and the hundreds of innocent mortal girls?

Niall watched Miach carefully. "My King, you simply say these things out of sheer belief. You do not know of the horrid things I've permitted myself to."

Miach shook his head. "But I do. I know who you are, Niall. I have seen you with Irial on dark nights, by his side. Loyal, you are- resilient. You may not be proud of the things that you've done while in that court, though I am giving you a chance to start anew- in another. You ask me why I would care for you, give you a home without knowing you. The answer is simple. I know that you truly never belonged in that court to begin with. You are broken, yes, and hurt moreso. However, you have a good heart, and my fey are known for seeing the good in others." Miach stood and the bird flew away. He held out a hand to Niall. "Clean up, tidy yourself. I will meet you in the dining hall at noonday. We shall talk, understand each other for once."

Niall could only stare speechlessly at Miach, who pulled him to his feet. It was then, with the most trustworthy smile Niall had ever seen, Miach turned his back on Niall and left the room. Quiet as a moonless night, Niall watched him, awe in his eyes. And like a ball of light, glowing from all angles, the Summer King reminded him every bit of the stars he'd forgotten to pray to in the past.


	7. Chapter 7

**This is chapter seven, as you know, and I actually enjoy writing this story. Later I might work on another story when this one is done (And don't worry, it's not done yet :0) that'll probably be a yaoi or somethibg between Irial and Niall since I didn't go into depth in chaper two. Also, Niall is hurt, so I tried to portray those emotions as best I could. Remember guys, I really like reviews! Sometimes I get sad when I don't get that many. So yeah, this is it. Remember, I'm using a bit of context from the books (though I'm not compltely right). You can always as me a question about my story and I'll try my best to answer, (As long as it's not a super-spoiler!).but I'm not the author of WL.**

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When Niall had bathed, he slowly watched the blood wash away from his skin. It was his only hope of easing the pain of what had occurred not so long ago. Each press on points of his body left a sting or two, presumably because of how irregular the marks were. He could almost remember their clawing. "_Are you going to cry, Gancanach?_" they hissed at him.

Niall stopped washing and stared at himself in the wall length mirror. He looked beat up- to say the least- like some sort of soldier who'd survived a battle. _But I survived._ But even with the blood gone, the bruises and the gashes were still there, especially the long mark Gabriel had carved into his face. Niall wasn't sure if he should be ashamed or weary of the marks, seeing as he was once normal. The closest thing a faery could achieve as being normal. _Which I can never be again._ The Summer King had accommodated Niall into his court, giving him the best room with the best beads and oils, though even the sweetest of water could not assuage the hurt he felt. Pain lurked through his entire self. It continued to show up nostalgically whenever the Dark Court came into his thoughts. _And they did_, he admitted. _Constantly_.

Niall had a lot of work to do- to make himself feel needed. The slash on his face was still an issue, and midway into his bath, Niall had come to the conclusion that it was just too deep and uneven to heal. That bothered him, knowing that he was a scarred imperfection. He wasn't perfect before, but Irial had convinced him so many times that he was attractive. And surely he could not be now, not with so many marks. _Though I am forced to bear these marks forever._

A gentle knock from the door sent his thoughts jarring. "Yes?" he called.

He saw the door open for the smallest amount, and then an arm reached in to place a bundle of clothes near the foot of the door he presumed were for him. Then the arm retracted and he could hear the summer girl giggle as she scurried away.

Niall glanced once at the bundle before sitting up and grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. He walked across the wooden floor trying not to slip on any residual water and stooped beside the bundle. There were pants, shoes, and a loose fitting shirt- precisely his size when he held them to his body. Niall returned to the bathtub, where he allowed the remnants of his problems run own the drain, and with a weary smile, turned toward his new bedroom to get dressed.

An hour later, Niall had decided to leave the room, feeling neglected and still pained. Niall was beginning to see that he would never truly get rid of the pain from before- it hurt with too much fervor. Whenever he tried to change those thoughts, something always propelled him to think about the dark fey, the way they touched him, his screams. But those minor aspects did not haunt him the most. Remembering the expression on Irial's face as it happened did.

Niall shook his head again, grief on his face, eyes heavy. He ran his hair back with his palm. _I need to forget it. _But he couldn't.

He passed the series of duplexes and started to worry that he would forget his way back when the time came. A voice in his head told him to keep walking, though. So he did, and came across a large series of spiral stairs that led down into oblivion. Niall thought better of taking the stairs and instead went into another direction. _King Miach wants to speak with me._

He stopped beside a summer girl who was skipping daintily down the hall and tapped her on the shoulder. She instantly spun around. A shock of auburn hair and blue-grey eyes stared widely back at him. "May I ask where you king is?"

The girl looked awestricken. Niall was afraid that she'd seen a ghost. Perhaps she had.

He raised a brow and tried to ask the question more slowly. "May I ask where your king is? I need to speak with him."

The girl's expression changed from awe to a sudden willingness to please. "I know where he is", she enthused, dragging him by the arm down the forbidden stairs. "Come with me."

"Is there a reason as to why he is down here?" Niall didn't want to admit it, but he was frightened of those stairs. The vertigo reminded him too much of the feeling of illusion he had during the attack. "He isn't any place else?"

The summer girl smiled widely- and wickedly. "I saw him down here before- not too long ago."

Niall followed her quickly as she led him past a series of doors of sorts and through two glass doors, which led to a balcony covered in snow.

When they arrived, she swerved around to face him. "He was right here", she murmured innocently. "But he must have gone somewhere else."

Niall scratched his wet hair then. "Then I should go and find him. It isn't the smartest idea to wait in the cold…" He struggled for her name, but she hadn't given him.

"Seri", she added brightly.

"Seri", he finished. Niall turned on his heel to go when Seri leapt in front of him. He took a step back from her proximity. "Excu-"

"Is it true that you are from the Dark Court?"

Niall was caught off guard, his brow pulling together. "What?" When he stared back at her face, though she looked intrigued, fascinated beyond her wits.

The girl took a step closer to him, staring at his eyes. "Well, is it? That is what the other girls have been saying ever since you arrived. At first, I did not believe them, but after actually meeting you… I believe it. It's still very hard, though. I've never met any Dark Court member."

Niall took at breath, but was unable to stop himself from sounding upset. "This isn't something to enthuse over, Seri. The Dark Court should never be looked upon as intriguing. Their pursuits are always selfish." He couldn't help but leave a drip of bitterness on his tongue as he spoke about _them. _They had ruined his life, taken away his will.

Seri ignored that, still bright. "So it _is_ true then!"

Niall fists clenched together to control his desire to smack sense into the girl. "No. It isn't. I've left them. I am solitary- belonging to no court."

Seri's eyes dulled for a moment. Her voice crew quieter. "Why did you leave them then? I've heard that the Dark Court has the most fun- more than Summer even."

Niall turned defiantly away from her. "That is a lie."

"But don't they have galas and festivals of sorts whenever-"

"No." The words were very curt and precise.

Seri's brow furrowed. "Then how is it fun?"

Niall spun around then, frustrated, enraged. "It is not fun", he hissed. "It is painful."

"But I don't un-"

"They rip and tear at everything you have left- your soul, your existence, your good- and they destroy it", he said with a cry. "They breed monsters and befriend even more. You cannot imagine what Dark Court fey would do to make shrivel an innocent girl like you- to addict you, to keep as a pet. How easily your soul would burn at the namesake of hope, how your virtue would be swept away like a petal in the blowing wind. Stop speaking about them, Seri. You will get nowhere, especially with the naïve mind of a child."

Seri stared back at him fearfully, her chest heaving as she held onto the stone of the balcony for support. It took Niall some to realize that he had the girl back into off the ledge, holding on to prevent herself from falling. "I'm sorry", she whispered inaudibly.

Niall shook his head with discontent and put his face in his hands, simultaneously backing away from Seri. Without looking up, he heard her footsteps as she scrambled back into the castle. _Why do I always push others away?_

Niall continued to claw through his hair with one hand, not realizing that he was crying again. This time, Niall sat down next to an augment snow pile and cried in his hands. Each memory hurt, but he tried to block them all from touching his core. _The part that makes me sane._

"Niall", Miach's voice said. Niall couldn't look up at meet the eyes of a king of such high status. _Would he think less of me if I told him the truth? Would he find me weak? _Niall felt an unnaturally warm hand on his shoulder, like the hand of a deity, and looked up, eyes red.

"I apologize" he quickly answered, wiping the tears.

Miach shook his head an stood up, pulling Niall up with him. "Come with me", he said, light touching his voice. It sounded musical. "We can discuss things now. And no, I will not think any less of you."

Niall was completely shocked by that revelation- like Miach had heard his thoughts. "How-"

Miach raised a hand to silence him. "We are going to talk. You can explain your thoughts then."

Niall did not dispute the king's orders as Miach led him along the corridor of the palace and through a maze of stairs. They came upon an empty room, unlike the other occupied spaces. This room had no birds, no rafters, no vines. Only a large wooden able surrounded by chairs.

Miach gestured Niall into one and sat opposite of him. Both men stared at each other, not with intimidation, but with understanding. Niall understood that he had to control his emotions before speaking to the king and Miach both understood and respected that Niall was deeply in pain.

Niall took a breath, swiping his eyes. "My Liege, I apologize once again for my sensitivity."

Miach was quiet, wistful. "Understood."

Niall held his forehead. "I suppose that you are expecting a story from me, an explanation, though I haven't the slightest idea how to explain it to you. So much has happened to me-" He paused. "I am forever in your debt."

Miach nodded once. "I will not press you for information", he mused. "I simply want to understand what has happened to you- before I found you."

Niall tried to start a sentence, but a brief memory of the Dark Court sent him into an tremor of fear and regret. Niall turned his face, hair spilling into his eyes. "I- I once belonged to the Dark Court, one of Irial's most trusted acquaintances. I- He and I were very close- so close I would have never imagined he would lie to me." At that point, Niall expected Miach to say, "Fey don't lie" just as Irial had. But he did not. Patiently, Miach listened, and Niall could see tendrils of hair drifting around his face as he spoke, like sunbeams.

"Irial told me how broken I truly was. We are both… gancanaghs." Niall shied his eyes away. "I was upset- to know that I had killed so many young girls- and then Irial hadn't apologized. I rescinded my fealty to him."

Niall glanced at Miach's eyes for permission, but the glowing orbs watched him the same way, as if gently pushing him to continue. Then Niall told him about the Dark Court's true nature, about Anvia, the summer girl he missed, about the sickly smell of grappled flesh, about his own futile screams and torture. By the end of it, Niall wanted to break down again, but he couldn't- not in front of this king.

Miach stared back at him with a blank expression, endearing but revealing nothing more. He spoke carefully. "You said that you are a gancanagh, that you addict human women."

Niall nodded ruefully. "Yes."

"Is that the same for fey?" His eyes were curious.

Niall shook his head, too afraid to look at Miach. "No. Only mortals."

Miach nodded once before leaning close to the table. "How close were you with the Dark King, Niall?"

Niall hesitated when he saw the almost prying look in his eyes. How much of his relationship with Irial could he tell him about? With lingering pity I his voice, Niall said, "I was very close to him, closer than I have been with anyone. But now we no longer speak."

Miach nodded once, watching Niall analytically, observing as the faery buried his face in his hands. "Do you ever regret leaving him- your king?"

Niall glanced up then. His voice was low and hoarse. "I would rather not answer that, My Liege." At that point, Niall regretted nothing, yet at the same time, would have liked to speak to Irial once last time.

Miach did not reprimand him for his rejection. Instead, he reached out towards Niall- causing him to flinch reflexively- and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You seem very afraid, mistreated. Though I appreciate your candor, Niall. If there is anything the Summer Court has to offer you, I would gladly leave you access."

Niall wiped his face and said, "You are kind." But then flashbacks of the attack came rushing back to him and the fear returned.

"You are an asset to this court, Niall. And seeing that you are solitary… it would be my honor to have your fealty."

A surprise hitched in Niall's throat. He stood up, shaking his head. "I- I cannot do that, My Liege." Niall was far from the position to be able to trust another king, regardless of which court. How could he be assured that the Summer Court would toy with his emotions just as Irial had? Niall turned his back from Miach. "I do not know you well enough. And on the other hand, I do not want to burden you."

Miach stepped forward. "You would be a much needed asset- not a burden, Niall. I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself, to cleanse your body and spirit of the pains that have yet to escape you. It is the way of summer- healing wounds, not inflicting them. I can help you, Niall. We all can. Ponder the offer- at least."

Niall turned around, seeing Miach with clear eyes for the first time. The Summer King actually cared about his welfare. The tendrils of sunlight that cackled though him were more than just the result of power, but of hope. Miach was hopeful that Niall would accept, but not forceful. A difference Niall noted from the Dark Court.

But then again, Irial had been just as inviting at first until he'd betrayed him. The faery was cunning, he had to admit. Irial neither appeared as callous as he was when Niall first met him nor as kind as Niall had been led to believe as he left.

Niall thought about Miach's words before saying, "I will think on it."

"Let you think on it then", Miach announced. Then with the speed only sunlight and shadows could conjure, left the room with Niall standing more uncertain than he had been before.

**REVIEW PLEASE! (You know you want to press that button)**

**P.S: It's sort of green:)**


	8. Chapter 8

**This is the next chapter to Darkest Demise. Niall struggles with what happened to him. Note that this story is rated M, so I want no complaints, 'kay? And like I said, no homophobic stuff either. Review! Review! Review!**

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After his encounter with Miach, Niall was feeling more tired than he expected from himself. Sluggishly, he retreated to the bedroom the Summer King had given him. Several cockatoos flew by in a blur as he closed the door behind him.

Niall couldn't think straight- his mind was a blur of fear and anxiety, and his thoughts weren't anything more than muddled. With tension in his bones, he flopped onto the soft bed, feeling relief instantly when he did. A sigh escaped him. Nothing was making sense anymore. Just hours ago, he felt depressed, on the verge of suicide- alone. Never would he have considered that affection or friendship would be offered. _Especially not from Miach. _There was no doubt in his mind that this king was unlike Irial. Miach was selfless and as far as Niall could tell- kind in ways Irial could never be.

Yet, in the somewhat quiet of his new home, Niall felt alone. Pain still ached him in both his body and his heart. Somewhere inside, he was still undecided, still an imperfection.

Staring out at the distant rafters on the high ceilings, he took a deep breath. These birds held the threads that kept him sane, that kept him from walking to the balcony outside his door and jumping. The birds and Miach seemed to be the only ones who understood him. _To a degree_, he thought.

But then he stared off at the ceiling and couldn't help but feel a shiver of worry overtake him. Irial had lied and betrayed him, had broken him so very badly. Yet Niall still wanted to speak to his old king. Perhaps knowing that Irial was still ruling the court he'd grown to despise incited such feelings in him. Niall did not really know.

Quietly, he stood up from the bed and glanced around the room. It was beautiful, almost angelic, and again, reminded him nothing of the Dark Court. Still, though, in the pit of his chest, he missed it. All of it. He missed those nights with Irial where they'd laughed and shared affection. He missed the languid eyes of the women and on occasion, men, he'd addicted. All the same, he hated the Dark Court. He hated the way they'd held him down and did things to him most unimaginable.

Niall abruptly took his thoughts away from there. He could undo his past, be different. He could prove Irial wrong. He moved swiftly towards the corner of the large room, where a mirror stretched from one end of a wall to another. Quietly, he stared at his reflection. He'd been too afraid to even look at the image hours ago, when he'd taken a shower. Now he felt even more afraid than before. His eyes were wide, his lips parted. He looked frightened.

Niall tried to turn his head away, tried to forget the scars he knew laced his body, tried to forget the one that marred his face. He couldn't though. Not yet. At that moment, he could recall all of the horrid things that had inflicted him. Could remember the pain in his screams. Within a minute, he was hyperventilating, unable to move. His lips were dry against the air of the well ventilated room. His palms were sweaty.

Niall could do nothing else but stare at the two brown eyes that were his own in the mirror before him. _I…_ He could feel nothing else but pain everywhere- anxiety. Guilt. Fear. It all rushed him at once. _I cannot stand this pain. _Frightened, he ran to the other side of the room, where the bathroom was. He searched through every cupboard for a blade. _Any _kind, he thought frantically. _Any kind to ease the pain. The pain that hurts so much. _Finding nothing in his search, he slammed his fist on the sink with a cry. It was then, his eyes wandered to the ground, where one of Ria's utensils had fallen. The blade was made of bone, with a sharp, grooved edge. Carefully, Niall picked the blade up from the ground and held it in his palm. A bead of sweat ran down his face.

He held the knife in his good hand and slowly walked up to the mirror he'd run away from. His reflection still frightened him. With his breath slowing, he held the knife's tip to the expanse of his throat, right below his jaw line, and swallowed. The blade was sharp enough that it drew a small dot of blood that ran down his neck in a line. Niall pressed the blade harder to his throat, feeling the cold bone slice his skin, but was still not at ease. _The wound will heal in a matter of hours. I need iron._

He stared at his reflection. His eyes were still wide, still red, now brimming with tears. His breath was slow, ready. _I do not fear death. _He moved the knife away from his throat to the center of his chest. With his free hand, Niall felt his heart. Then with the other, he moved the knife to that spot. _The place where I feel nothing. _Niall pressed the blade to his chest, gasping at the pain he felt. It was deep, but not deep enough to kill. If he wanted to, though, he could kill himself. _But do I want to?_

"I should", he cried. He tried desperately to press the blade harder, but his fingers clenched. He couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to, he was unable. Niall just couldn't find the will to end his own life. With sudden cry, he threw the blade to the ground and collapsed, tears rolling down his face. On the ground, he was safe. Safe from himself. Safe from Irial, and most importantly safe from his memories. Distantly in his mind, Niall remembered one of the nights he'd spent with Irial, before he'd known how twisted Irial was.

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Niall and Irial were staying at a village- a village Gabriel would destroy only a mere two days later. The town was small- unheard of to many. Except Irial, of course. The Dark King seemed to know about every place that dared to exist. But nonetheless, Niall was young and guile, so he'd trusted Irial much more than he should have.

The pair arrived at a mortal inn. It had several horses moored in the front. Niall was reminded that mortals need transportation that fey did not.

Inside, Niall could taste and smell the mortal air. Women, most likely whores, were laughing daintily in the laps of the men at the pub. Their faces were painted. And several were revealing their undergarments while others showed cleavage. The hostess filled glasses with beer and other brews. Niall felt the urge to ask Irial where they were, but thought better of it. It was obviously a brewery. And a whorehouse.

Irial was speaking to the hostess as Niall glanced around uncomfortably. In the corner of the small room, he saw a man and a woman kissing. The woman was laughing quietly as the man's lips touched her throat.

"Niall." Irial's voice broke his gaze. His king smiled at him. "For a moment I thought that you weren't awake."

Niall smiled apologetically. "I was distracted."

"Indeed, you should be." He laid an arm around Niall's shoulders, tugging him close by the hip. "Look at all of the free entertainment, Gancanagh. Surely you will be kept busy tonight."

Niall had to agree. It wasn't unlike Irial to feast on debauched pleasures. Nor was it unlike Irial to include Niall in those pleasures.

Irial glanced back to take the keys from the more than endearing hostess and led Niall up the wooden staircase. Soon, the two of them were headed into the mortal den. There was a hall with a series of rooms. Each room had a small number written on the door. Irial stopped at one door with the number eight. Using the key, he opened the door and held it open for Niall to step in.

Inside of the room interested Niall. It was dimly lit with a few candles that were melting slowly near the one window on the left. A large bed sat in the center if it all. And on the bed sat a boy, no older than twenty years of age or so. He looked thin. From malnourishment or by nature, Niall was unsure. In the dark of the room, he was unable to completely be sure of anything. The boy looked once at Niall, who was awestricken, and then at Irial. Niall almost jumped at the sound of Irial closing the door behind him.

He felt his king's presence without needing to turn around. Quietly, he asked, "Irial, what is this?"

Irial ignored the innocence in his voice and came to stand beside him. "This, my friend, is Emrys. He wishes to please."

"To please?" Niall's brows furrowed as he stared from Emrys to Irial. "Is he a whore then?"

Irial shrugged and came to take a seat on the bed beside the mortal boy. "I suppose." He smiled wickedly. "But only if you regard him that way."

Niall glanced back at the door and then at Irial. His eyes couldn't help but linger at Emrys. "And he is here to please you? Why am I here, then?"

Irial smiled again. "He is here to please _you_, Gancanagh. Consider it my gift. And I suppose if I want what he has to offer… yes; he may please me."

Niall's heartbeat was rapid. "You've paid for him? For his… services."

Irial nodded once, black eyes lingering on Niall for a moment. "Yes. And he was more than a few ducats from my purse."

Niall was suddenly frightened, and he did not know why. This boy, he must be very young. He looks it. "H-How old is he?" Niall hesitated to ask.

Irial gave Niall a bored look before glancing at Emrys. "How old are you, child?"

The boy blinked once before murmuring to Irial, "Nineteen." He leaned against Irial's shoulder and shut his eyes.

Niall gave Irial a disapproving look, but his king glared at him and stood up, gently lowering Emrys's head. "What is wrong, Niall?"

Niall's voice was a mean whisper so that the mortal would not hear him. "I can _not_ have sex with a young boy, Irial. It is unthought-of."

Irial approached Niall and firmly grabbed his shoulder, staring him in the eyes. "You amuse me with your good graces, Niall. Sometimes, you are enjoyable, and other times you suddenly care for mortals. Why is that?"

"Because I know when something is wrong."

"What about the other times, Niall? What about our trips to foreign lands- the wines? The moments where mortals willingly grabbed our flesh? Are those times any different? Were they any less wrong to you when you and I _both _enjoyed them?"

Niall shook his head, annoyed. Irial always knew how to convince him that his thoughts were incorrect. And once again, Niall was losing the argument. "It isn't the same, Iri-"

Irial interrupted him. "Do you want the boy, Niall?"

Niall glanced at Emrys. The boy was lying there, prone. His eyes were unmoving except to look at Irial and Niall. Niall clenched his fists, unable to lie. He sighed. "I do." And as much has he hated to accept it, he had a longing to be fulfilled- and the boy was a solution.

Irial's usual wicked smile returned. "I know that you do, which is why I am giving him to you." He placed his hand on the small of Niall's back and gently guided him towards the bed where Emrys sat. As he approached, Emyrs opened his eyes and sat up. Upon closer inspection, Niall noticed that the boy's hair was brown like his own, but that Emyrs' eyes were blue. Irial had finally gotten Niall near enough that he could sit on the bed if he chose.

Niall knew that he should hate Irial for encouraging him to do such a thing, but he knew that his king was right. What made this circumstance different from the others? With a tentative movement, Niall sat on the bed, trying to conjure his thoughts. He stared at Emrys nervously, unsure of what to do next. The boy, probably having done this plenty of times, slowly unbuttoned his shirt and laid prone as he had before. "I am unafraid" he told Niall.

Niall glanced back at Irial and sighed with frustration. Irial's face was unchanging- stoic. As Niall turned back to the boy, he felt guilty. But as his mind realized the power and possibilities he now had with a willing participant, the guilt vanished. With one last hesitation, Niall leaned in and tasted the boy's lips. Then he remembered the other sexual voyages he'd gone on with Irial. _This is no different_, he continued to tell himself. But it was only half true.

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Niall took his thoughts away from that memory. It was by far one of his worst. He laid on the cold floor very alone- and very hurt. He wanted to talk to his king again, even if he was unsure how, because in his chest he knew that Irial hadn't been the only thing telling him to do sin. Beside Irial's voice he also heard his own.

Niall could never forgive himself for what he and Irial had done to that boy that night, nor could he forgive himself for all of the others he'd addicted. Seeing what the Dark Court did to him made Niall even more empathetic for the lives he'd stolen.

With tears still stinging his eyes, Niall stood up and walked over to the mirror again, this time picking up the blade with him. Instead of holding it to his throat again or his chest, he held it to his hair. In the mirror he stared at himself and frowned. He eyes were too frightened. His body too tense.

His hair was not shoulder length but came partway down his jaw. It was long enough to grab, long enough to render him weak. Long enough for Gabriel to drag him. Long enough for the dark fey to hold him prone and unable to move as they violated him. _That will never happen again_, he thought. With a swift movement, he cut a strand. And another. He kept cutting until he was satisfied, until his hair was shorn and unable to be grabbed. _Until I am no longer afraid._

He stared at the brown hair that littered the sink and finally felt a calm. And then he wiped his eyes and told himself that he would forget his past.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is breif but gives a little insight. Spolier: The next chapter will most likely be Irial's POV. By the time this story ends, I'll have a chapter also dedicated to playlists for each chapter. But that's far away. :)**

By the time one of the summer fey came to check on him, Niall was stable. He'd replaced the shears to their original location and had cleaned up his hair. The boy knocked on the door twice before Niall said, "Come in."

A servant boy, no older than the boy-Emrys- from his dark memories, stepped into the room and swallowed. "K-King Miach told me to tell you that you may use anything in the palace you would like. He said to make yourself comfortable."

Niall nodded once and turned his head away. "Tell him that I am in his debt." His words were almost routine now. He had to thank Miach for all of the unfathomable kindness he was showing him.

Niall turned head again to find that the boy stood in the doorway staring at him. _Is it my scars? _He wondered. The boy's eyes weren't focused on one part of his face in particular. He was just staring at Niall. His head tilted.

"Is there something wrong?" Niall asked him.

The boy shook his head, but his eyes still looked unfocussed. "Something is different about you."

Niall's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Niall was expecting the boy to somehow mention his haircut, but instead he pointed to the thin air around him. "Shadows", he whispered. "I see shadows. Around you. They cling to your skin."

Niall bristled, feeling suddenly afraid again. "Shadows?"

Before the boy could answer, someone else broke the silence. "Tristan." A summer girl with brown eyes and dark skin grabbed him by the forearm, glanced up at Niall, and dragged Tristan away. "Stop pestering our visitor", she rebuked. "He is to relax- not to speak to you."

Niall was left speechless. _Shadows_. He couldn't forget what Tristan had said. _Am I tainted? Has Irial gotten to me finally? _He glanced out of the doorway and into one of the many halls, where Tristan had been led away. He thought about the possibility of walking through those halls and finding Miach, but the king was too swift in his movements. He was somewhere one day and somewhere else the next.

Instead, Niall took a breath and found himself downstairs, in the main hall. The idea about the shadows had not yet vanished from his thoughts, even as he tried hard to forget. Then he saw her.

Queen Beira in all of her furious majesty. Her decadently pale skin was draped in the fur of an animal- a silver fox, Niall realized. She was standing in the hall awaiting someone's return, and from the corner of his eyes, Niall could see summer fey cringing away from her in fear. Beira's face could have been sculpted from pure ice under the hands of the best artisan, for her features were as stoic an cold as her attire.

All of this left Niall speechless as he watched her.

Her cold eyes glanced at him. In an effort to move away, Niall had caught her attention. A wall of ice crept behind him, preventing him from running anywhere. He swallowed.

"Who are you?" she asked, wafting across the foyer. "I haven't seen you here before." She was delicately closer to him, her long fingers holding his face in front of hers. Ice protruding from her fingertips scraped at his bare chin.

"I-" Niall couldn't remember what he was planning to say- not with Beira so close to him.

"He is with me, Beira."

Both Niall and the Winter Queen turned around to find King Miach standing before them, glowing again.

Beira's face scowled, obviously upset to have lost her current prey. Her cold blue eyes stared at Niall for some time as she spoke. "So he is yours… I do not remember him being here, even as I my concern for your fey is minute. I do, however, remember him from somewhere else."

Niall's heart was pounding. He could only stand and hope that Beira would spare him, but being solitary meant that one was fair game- easy prey for anyone else.

Miach's calm mask never fell under Beira's gaze. "My darling, you must understand, your acts of power do not intimidate me. I respect your… unsettling concern for my fey, but Niall should not be a point of interest."

Beira refused to be misled. "I remember him, Miach, even as you wish for me to forget." Her voice was sharp like daggers. "He was once Irial's… plaything. A shame, really. I suspect that he has left the Dark King." She said the last sentence slowly, watching the fear in Niall's eyes as she did so. Miach interjected.

"Let him go, Beira. He has no further business with you- or with Irial." His amber eyes were only for the Winter Queen.

Niall was unsure of what to say, if anything. Theses were two faery monarchs, while he was merely a guest. When Beira spoke next, she made sure to press her two ice-tipped fingers harder against Niall's throat, drawing blood. "You may have escaped my watch this time, but surely, you will not be fortunate again." Then she snatched her hand away and sauntered towards the summer king, leaving Niall struggling for breath.

"Miach", she said, extending her pale wrist.

The summer king took it into his own and pressed a kiss to the underside of her wrist. "Beira", he acknowledged accordingly. "What is the reason for your arrival this time?"

"What? I cannot choose to see you, Miach? Or must there be an ulterior motive for each visit?"

"There usually is, Beira."

The Winter Queen smiled briefly, though it was not reassuring. "Well." Beira's tresses fell down her back as she removed her diadem and ordered one of her fey to hold it. The skinny Scrimshaw Sister rushed to her queen's side, shooting fearful glances at Niall and the other small cluster of fey in the room.

The winter faery accidentally dropped the hair clasp only to receive three stab wounds to the stomach by the Winter Queen's cold hand. "Imbecile", she spat. "Perhaps you will learn from your suffering."

The winter faery quivered in pain as she quietly held her bleeding wounds and held onto her queen's crown. "I apologize."

Beira ignored her whimpers as she spoke to Miach, her voice completely changed now that her frustrations where made clear. "Dearest, I've come to discuss our recent departure. However, seeing that you are making yourself rather familiar with Irial's former plaything, I will be leaving." Beira paused at the doorway, where several of her frightened hags held the doors for her.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Dearest." Then, with all of her chill and frost, she had gone.

Heat rushed back into the room from where she had stood, and Niall remained unnerved as he leaned heavily against the wall. King Miach came beside him for reassurance. As if for explanation to the random events that occurred, he said, "On some occasions the Winter Queen and I have discords, and on others, we are somewhat at peace."

Niall finally remembered his ability to speak when he asked, "And today?"

"Today, we had a bit of both, although I would like to consider it to be peaceful."

Niall swallowed, trying to find his calm again. He then thought back to when the Winter Queen had been seen speaking to Irial. He knew that Beira's relationship with his former king wasn't very close, nor were the two intimate. He couldn't quite grasp the negotiation Irial and Beira had decided upon, and after a while of thought had determined that it wasn't for him to fully understand.

"Miach", Niall said finally. His mind was jarred as he made the decision that would alter his life from then on. "I remembered your offer- of fealty."

The Summer King smiled as he led Niall farther away from the foyer and to the garden. "Yes. What are your thoughts?"

"I-I have decided to join the Summer Court." Niall kneeled on one knee and said the words he promised himself that he would never say again. "I hereby give my fealty to you, King Miach, and to the court in which you reign. So mote it be." He felt an odd energy flood him, even though it was scarcely noticeable.

When Niall stood up, he felt somewhat faulted. Even though he had willingly left Irial, he still felt the instinctual sentiment of betrayal. Miach did not notice the pain on his face, however. The Summer King placed an arm on his shoulder and patted it approvingly.

"I knew that you would make the right decision, Niall. Your assets have given me ideas regarding your potential."

Niall was quiet as Miach spoke, still unsure of what his new king meant. "I find that you would make a fine addition to my guard", Miach continued. "Alongside Tavish, my eldest advisor."

Niall froze. "An advisor position is very high in rank, My King. Surely I cannot-"

"I have faith in you, Niall. Have faith in yourself. You may begin training tomorrow, when you have settled in."

Niall couldn't help but stand in shock, only moving when Miach placed a oddly warm hand on his shoulder. "I know that you will do well, Niall. The Dark Court may find you unfit, but the Summer Court says otherwise."

Before Niall could reject the offer or change his mind, Miach told him that he needed to be somewhere else, and once again, his new king left him alone to reflect on his own thoughts. Niall was suddenly lightheaded as he returned to his room, and less concerned about the shadows that now clung to him like he was a conduit to everything he'd run away from.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own WL, so don't take my story to heart (Frex: Niall didn't know Iri was Dark King when they met). Whereas in my story, that's the case. While I have most of the facts basics right, you can't assume that what was left out of the book was exactly the way I've written it. There are a lot of things that Melissa knows about the scheme of WL that my story lacks and does not include (since she's the author). If you're womdering why I wrote this little rant, it's because I have the impression that some are relying on my writing and not that of the author. Just so that it's clear, I clarified.**

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**Now on a good note, reviews!**

Niall found himself in a w hite room, not unlike his room in Miach's palace or the room he and Irial often shared. Strangely, he was lying on a white bed covered in lilac flowers. Sitting up, he glanced quickly at the window, where he noticed the sun was rising overhead. There was an otherworldly quiet he wasn't quite accustomed to as he sat up. His clothes, he noticed, were also white, which confused him because he hadn't remembered changing.

_Something is wrong._

Standing up, Niall walked over to a rafter in the corner of the room where several birds, all with colors that were at odds with the monochrome of the room, stared back at him. They were silent, unspoken as he approached, which made him nervous.

_Where am I?_

The birds stared at him with beady eyes that were at odds with the setting, careful and unpredictable. _Like a raven's. _Niall took a breath to momentarily calm himself and his hectic emotions. He was supposed to be feeling afraid, confused even, but instead, all he felt was lax. And he wanted to know why.

"Niall."

The still quiet in the room was broken by a voice Niall dreaded to hear again. Niall spun around, his heart racing. "Irial."

His former king stood in the spot he'd just vacated, in front of the large white bed. He looked the same as he always had, and his dark eyes were just as piercing. The difference was that the shadows that clung to him so poignantly were now scarce, and even that simple sentiment frightened Niall. Seeing Irial look so innocent pained him to see. It made hating him even harder.

Niall took a cautious step back, almost tripping. "Why are you here?"

Irial's eyes were calm as he answered, just as frightening as they had been when he'd signaled for Gabriel to scar Niall. "I give you my apologies."

Niall froze. "You aren't sure of that. You left me… you… hurt me."

Irial took a step forward as Niall took a step back. "You still want to hurt me." The paranoia sank in as Niall remembered what Irial had allowed his fey to do to him.

Irial said nothing as he watched the fear in Niall's eyes. "I don't want to harm you, a ghrá." Irial stepped closer, until he was an arm's length away.

Niall shuddered as Irial placed a hand on his shoulder. "You matter to me, Niall. Come back to us."

Niall shook his head, feeling more afraid now then he was before. "No, I- No."

"Why, Niall? Is this not where you belong? You _are _a gancanagh. You are like myself."

"I am not like you. We are different. I can't… I won't-"

"Niall, you must understand." Irial's arm was tight on Niall's, pulling him closer. "You must." The shadows were returning, darker than Niall remembered them being. They hugged Irial all the same, and his former king gave him no means of escape from their embrace.

"No", Niall managed to say against the engulfing darkness. And then everything stopped.

Instead of Irial's smooth voice guiding him into the shadows, all Niall heard was someone angrily ordering that he wake up. "Get up!"

Niall had awaken suddenly, almost slamming face-first into a silver-haired faery.

The faery was leaning over Niall's bed with his hands clenched in the material like he would rip it to shreds at any moment. "What were you dreaming about?" he snarled. "You've overslept for hours."

Niall ran a hand over his face, feeling too confused and embarrassed to look at his newest mentor. With a little trouble and a few thought provoking clues, he suddenly remembered that he'd been offered to train with Miach's advisor.

He sighed. "How long?"

The faery's impatience showed as he ground out, "A score. You've been asleep for almost an entire day."

Niall stretched his arms and managed to get out of bed. It was there, standing before his visitor, that he realized how much pain he was suddenly in. The day before, he was sore, but now he felt that in tons. All of Ria's stitching had taken its toll all at once.

Taking his mind away from his own pain, Niall glanced at the tall faery in front of him. "Miach told me that I would begin training, but I don't recall him meaning _now_. He said when I was comfortable. And I haven't caught your name."

The older faery glared at him, his eyes two dark slits. "Tavish. And I believe that you have rested enough."

Niall took a breath before actually speaking to Tavish. Finally he said, "So you're the one who will be training me?"

Tavish clenched his fists. "Yes. Although I dread having to do so."

Niall watched him carefully, assessing him. "But Miach has demanded that you train me?" It was more a statement than a question.

"My _King _has asked that I train you. He does not control my actions, unlike your former king."

Niall's irritation doubled into an unknown possessive anger he hadn't expected. "You do not know Irial."

Tavish appeared fairly amused. "Defending the Dark King is not wise if you choose to reside in this court, boy."

Niall's scowl was barely concealed as he moved past Tavish to the other side of the room. "Is this a part of the training, Tavish, or have you solely come to my chambers to torment me?"

Tavish smirked and made his way to the door. "You have an hour to ready yourself for battle. And know that I do not pity novices." With that, he left.

Niall wasn't as angry as he should or could have been with Tavish as he watched the faery leave. Instead, he was upset that he hadn't yet ridden his mind of Irial, and that he showed an uneasy weakness for him. The dream was enough to make him question his potential in this new court, as were the now realized feelings of confusion and longing.

Irial sat in his bruig, feeling as melancholic as he normally felt, especially now that his gancanagh had left.

His fey were thriving, mostly due to the horrific events that ensued when Niall had given himself to the court, but thriving nonetheless. And the Winter Queen in all her chilling fright had also added to their health with her never-ending reign of terror on weaker fey. Irial hated to admit it, but even she intimidated him at times.

With his thoughts now realized, he was almost mortified to find that she had come to his bruig seeking answers. He knew it when he saw the scrimshaw sisters first enter his domain, followed by two hags, and then by the Winter Queen herself.

Her face was of ageless beauty, but that wasn't enough to exclude the fact that she was as threatening as always. Her fox robes were obviously too precious to be left to drag along the stone corridor of his favorite room; two sullen winter faeries held the heavy material on their shoulders, keeping the fleece a shimmering white.

Beira wafted across the room bringing an unforgotten chill with her that left Irial lightly shuddering. "My dear, what brings you here?" he asked past the fear in his voice.

Beira did not smile. Instead, she eyed the fey in his domain with distaste. "Irial, Darling, I do believe that I've told you how much your fey displeasure me to see."

Irial laughed, a decadent laugh that made Beira glare at him. "You come to my court seeking answers, yet you make judgments. I do find that paradoxical."

She ground her teeth as Irial watched her patiently. "I come here not seeking answers, but rather sharing secrets."

Irial smiled, but it was not reassuring. "And what secrets shall I be learning of late? Enlighten me."

It was Beira's turn to smile. "I have news of your gancanagh."

Irial's smile faltered, and although he tried not to let his fear show, it did anyway. "Niall?"

Beira watched as ice crawled from her fingers and then glanced back at the fear in the Dark King's eyes. "Yes."

"What news have you?" Irial's voice was too anxious, too afraid, too excited. _Too everything._

Beira moved closer to his dais, not showing submission but evincing her power over his thoughts. "He has left you, I see. He isn't the same. Well, yes, his hair is still brown, as are his eyes… but he seems more frightened of late, more vulnerable." She allowed the silence to waft on until it was almost intangible before she said, "Perhaps that is why he has joined the Summer Court."

Irial's shock was unexplainable to the point where even he could not hide it. "The Summer Court? Miach's court? He… Did you speak to him?"

The Winter Queen smiled once before answering. "I suppose we did speak. Although he did not say much. He was rather afraid of me, of what I would tell you. I do believe that he is avoiding you, Irial. Although it was destined to happen some day. You shouldn't mislead, Darling."

Irial's thoughts were frazzled as he process what she's said. _My boy with someone else. _It took Beira's chilling laughter to bring him back to reality. "Do speak, Irial. The lack of your voice shows weakness, and a Dark King cannot be weak, can he?"

"No. Of course not." Irial shook his head. "Is that all you have to say, Beira?"

She sniffed. "For now? Yes. If I see more of your… _gancanagh_, I shall tell you. Goodbye until then." With a sweep of her hand, she was walking away, her hags and scrimshaw sisters fast behind her, leaving a pain and misery that fed all of those in the room.

Irial could hardly steady his breath. Running hand through his hair, Irial watched his fey in his bruig. They were all silent, but murmuring broke out minutes later. _They think I am weak. Perhaps I am._

But then he stopped that thought as she walked in. _Bannanach. She will turn them against me over my weakness for Niall._

"Your weaknesses are showing, My King. They are rather unsettling." Her crazed eyes flickered across the room. "My war will be sooner than I imagined."

Irial ground his teeth. "I advise that you be silent."

The war faery took three uneasy steps forward, her bloodied rags leaving a trail of red behind. "War is never silent. Always speaking, misleading, watching until blood spills." In a flash of blackness and wings, she was beside him, talons running in a line along the side of his neck. The Ly Ergs watched the blood hungrily, but obediently stayed seated.

"War sees what others do not", she whispered, clacking her mouth in what sounded like a bird's caw.

Irial took a breath and held it. _Knowing War's words does not change what she will try to do. _Irial grabbed her hand, holding it blisteringly tight. "You have no power, and anyone who agrees with you shall lose. Be gone." The desperation in his voice as she ordered her to leave was evident, and it proved just how weak he was. _And why I need Niall as my heir. _But his Gancanagh had rejected him, and thus left him unprepared.

The crazed look in her eyes was obvious as she watched his blood run down his throat. "War can never be gone, Irial. It will find its way back until nothing is left but blood and ash and bones." Then she screeched so loudly that he winced and shot up into the air, a blur flying past him- and out of his bruig.


	11. Chapter 11

**I know that it's taken a while, but here's the next chapter. It tells a lot, so enjoy. Hopefully, the next will be soon, but I can only hope that nothing interferes.**

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Battling Tavish shouldn't have been an uneasy task, yet it was. One blow sent Niall spiraling to the ground, and the next left him almost unaware of the next strike. Luckily, he'd trained with Gabriel's Hounds, and even sparred with Irial sometimes, so the full effect of the blow didn't quite leave the intended mark.

Within a second, he was up again, launched at Tavish, glaring as he blocked with his forearm the next hit. Tavish gracefully twirled away, grabbing for the hilt of the blade that adorned his holster. Niall caught the action ahead of time and kicked the blade out of the white-haired faery's grasp, sending the bone knife clanging to the ground beside his boots.

Tavish lunged for the blade, and Niall did a backward jump to grab it first. The angry look in Tavish's eyes as he hit the empty ground showed that he hadn't been expecting that move, and that Niall had proven himself to be much more skilled than the advisor had intended.

With a quick sidestep, Niall had managed to snatch the blade from the ground and hold it to Tavish's throat. The dark of Tavish's eyes rested on Niall's face with a type of indifference.

"I suppose I am more skilled than you expected, friend."

With what sounded like a low hiss in the back of his throat, Tavish stood up and eyed Niall. "Do not call me friend. We are not friends, nor will we ever be."

Niall's smirk was scornful as he twirled the sword in his hand. "Come now, Tavish, surely I cannot be as dreadful as you assume me to be."

"Surely you can be." Without another word, the older faery extended his pale hand for his missing blade.

Just for the fun of it, Niall contemplated returning it to him. _It would be rather satisfying to refuse him. _Although after a moment's thought, and seeing the glower on his new teacher's eyes, Niall handed the blade over. "Remember that when we spar again."

Tavish's mouth quirked, and if it were anyone else, Niall would have called it a smile, but instead it was far too domineering to pass for one.

"Now _that_ is a battle I would love to see, child."

_Child. _Niall was filled with loathing the moment the word passed through Tavish's mouth. He was tired of being underappreciated, of being told that he knew nothing, that he was naïve and far too unaware. Irial had made him feel that way when he'd left the Dark Court, as had his feelings of embarrassment when Irial bastardized his name.

The anger in his features were hardly suppressed as Niall clenched his jaw. "Until then, friend. Send Miach my sincerity."

With that, Niall stepped around a glowering Tavish and to the door, and he hadn't stop walking until he reached his bedroom. A sigh escaped his mouth, one that could hardly be contained. He was unsure if the concern he felt was for Irial or for Tavish's unfriendliness.

Niall plopped onto his bed, hoping to dream pleasant thoughts, thoughts not including his horrifying past or Irial, but even he could not control those thoughts from venturing elsewhere. Then the door made noise.

In his room stood a tall girl, taller than most fey women, whose light hair covered her face. She refused to meet his eyes as she held out an envelope. The smooth parchment that wrapped the envelope contrasted the tattered layers of her gown, and for an instance, Niall considered replacing it with a newer one.

Niall sat up and gestured for the girl to come closer. "From whom is the letter sent?"

The girl's eyes did meet his then, but they quickly skittered away. "I… I do not know. I was approached by a man wearing dark colors; a dark cloak and tunic. There were shadows… His face was hidden beneath his hood…He frightened me."

Niall watched her intently, seeking answers. After seeing that he was still listening the girl continued. "He approached me on the mayflower field, where I was dancing. I know that I wasn't to leave the palace alone, but I did. Then he said: 'Give this to Niall, and send him my regards' and when I asked him why, he'd said, 'Show this to no one but Niall, or I shall find you again, child.' The he simply turned away."

Niall's breath had hitched in his throat as he said, "You are kind. I hope that you are not frightened overmuch."

"I am", she sighed. With an awkward turn, she left his bedroom.

Niall turned the envelope over in his palm an noticed the dark fleur-de-lis insignia on the seal. It was stamped in black ink.

Niall cautiously tore the paper, hearing the bitter crack of parchment, and removed the letter inside. It read:

To the Regent of the Dark Court to the Advisor to the Summer Court, with feelings of affection and longing, despite more recent discords,

I suppose I cannot blame your avoidance or perhaps even your insistent ire. Although I do believe we both know that you have never, and still do not, hate me, even if ill will is what you evince instead. It fancies me that you have joined the court of which I oppose regularly, and perhaps even more curiously, that you have been promoted to an advising position. I cannot share with you just how it strongly it puzzles that you would believe yourself to be summer fey. We both know, Niall, and we both know quite well, how undesirable that title is for you to claim. However, I haven't written this letter to shame, but rather to inform that I would fervently and gratefully welcome you into the Dark Court again. Affairs have changed without your presence, and I fear that War seeks my head. And of course, that of the Court. Perhaps such news matters little to you, Niall, and indeed, it may not. But in the interim of your avoidance, I shall keep seeking you out in mind . I beseech you, consider my offer, Gancanagh. To stay within a court that can ever sate your appetite is foolish. You are rather important to me, and I, you. We shall meet again, Gancanagh.

Niall's fingers trembled as he replaced the letter in its casing. His heart was beating far too fast in his chest- he was unable to move. _I shall keep seeking you out in mind._

Niall couldn't let that sentence go. Suddenly, he felt pure frustration, rage, anger. He'd left the Dark Court and Irial was still trying to dictate his life.

Niall rubbed his face with his hands, intent on ridding himself of those thoughts. _Of Irial. Of them._

"Niall?" Miach's smooth voice interrupted his train of thought. Niall quickly grabbed the letter and tucked it underneath the cushion of his bed.

"Come in", he answered, smoothing his clothes down with one hand.

When Miach stepped into the room, Niall noticed that for some reason, the energy that once surged beneath his skin was less radiant than before. _He had not looked that way before I'd sworn fealty._

Niall remained standing to show respect, but tried not to allow his eyes to wander to the letter hidden beneath his bed.

"I have considered some of what you have told me…" Miach paused, glancing once at Niall's nervous expression and then at the bird swooping down behind him. "I have considered some of what you have told me about being a Gancanagh."

Niall's expression blanched until he was too anxious to speak. "What of it?"

Miach's expression softened as if to make Niall feel more comfortable. "I have one rule for you, Niall. A rule that may only apply to you." He crossed the room to stroke a hummingbird flittering near a chrysanthemum. "As long as you are within this court, you are not allowed physical contact with mortals. Speaking to them is in itself is far too dangerous, yet is a necessity to fey. So therefore, you will be able to speak with them, however, _no _mortals… in the ways that you have used them before… with Irial."

Niall nodded once, feeling ashamed that he had to be told not to share his bed with mortals, yet foolish that he hadn't known that in the first place, and upset that he would now have to regulate his exposure to humans.

As Miach turned to leave, Niall found it hard to hide his longing and sadness, so he instead pretended to be fascinated by something outside of the glass window beside him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Miach smile at him with what looked like kindness, and then leave. Niall did not return to the bed nor the letter once he was gone. Instead, he really did find something outside that he grew a familiar fondness for. A copse of wild trees and a what looked to be a pond caught his attention in the dense forest. They reminded him far too much of a pleasant memory he and Irial once shared, and for those drawn out moments, he was unable to hate his old king or the letter he'd sent.

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In the midday of autumn, Niall could scarcely believe how beautiful the trees were. The forest Irial had told him about was even more amazing than he had imagined it to be. The trees were yellows and reds, the colors of roses and sunflowers, and the crystallized pond in the middle of it all was spectacular.

Irial had promised him that he would enjoy the sight; it was just one of the gifts that Irial shared with Niall when they were alone. Irial had Niall's eyes covered with his hands as led him toward the center of the dense yellow oaks, where leaves littered the forest floor.

"Can I see now?" Niall asked, smiling although he was unable to see.

Irial chuckled. "Not yet. But soon, Gancanagh."

Niall smiled at that, only adding to how excited he was. He had always enjoyed Irial calling him Gancanagh. Niall couldn't help but think about the way Irial's breath tingled his ear when he spoke, or how the muscles of his chest touched Niall's back when they walked.

Suddenly, Irial came to a stop, and so did Niall. Irial remove his hands from Niall's eyes to reveal the bight earthen colors of the forest and its floor. Niall glance back at him with awe in his eyes. "How are you able to find such treasures?"

Irial took a step forward, his boots crunching the golden leaves that carpeted the ground. "Many ways, Niall, many of which I'd rather not explain right now. I'd rather we spend time together this evening- by ourselves."

The smile Niall gave Irial was genuine, filled with love and hope. Irial smiled back, but not before gesturing to the cool river less than ten feet behind them. "Swim with me?"

Niall glanced at the trees, listening to the birds, watching the sun set among the green. "Of course."

Irial's dark eyes were almost filled with enlightenment as he moved closer to the water's edge and began to remove his boots. Niall silently watched as Irial undressed, feeling almost rude for not turning away. But then he remembered that it hadn't been the first time he'd seen him bare, and the shame vanished from his thoughts. All he could see was the sun glinting off of Irial's toned back and hips, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. In fact, he was so dazed that he hadn't noticed that he himself hadn't gotten undressed yet.

Irial's hands had paused at his breeches as he waited for Niall. "Are you joining me?" he asked. "You're as still as a stone."

Niall shook his head to level the red of his cheeks. "I was somewhere else." He stood up and tried to undress with haste, which only made Irial laugh, and made the redness of Niall's cheeks a faint pink. When Niall had his shirt off, he couldn't help but admire the tattoos that covered Irial's back, ones that were crafted carefully with precision. He almost envied them.

When Niall managed to get his pants off, Irial was already waist deep in the water, lounging against a slab of marble that widened into a cove at the edge of the bank. Niall considered swimming into that cove, but thought better of it.

The sensual way Irial held himself was done reflexively and out of habit, but Niall couldn't help but notice. His King's eyes were closed, head resting on the rock as if he were basking in the sun, exposing the pale expanse of his throat. _And chest._

Niall stepped up to the water, sinking in before he could see how cold it was. But all of that became irrelevant to him- all that mattered was spending time with Irial.

_Irial knows that I am here. _And the ark King did sense Niall entering the water, but his eyes remained closed. The only evidence of it was the small smile that made its way on Irial's face. "This is where pleasure lies, Niall", he whispered. "Within the vicinity of others."

Niall swam closer to Irial until their mouths almost touched. Only then did Irial open his eyes- they were the color of obsidian. "I have always fantasized about how the water would make me feel once I'd surrounded myself with it enough. And I, in no way, feel as I imagined I would."

Irial watched him with curious eyes. "What do you feel then?"

When he spoke, Niall could almost taste his breath. "Many things. Freedom, joy, fear."

"Why are you afraid?" Irial's eyes were still as he spoke, watchful and waiting- _And completely concerned._

Niall took a step back, distancing them both. For a moment, he just stood there, watching the running water of the cascade as it doused Irial's head, leaving the black hair shiny and sticking to his face.

When Niall did speak, his voice could barely contain his tangled feelings. "I feel something so powerful when you are near. It… it makes me understand everything- about love, the world, us." Niall finally met Irial's eyes, which he noticed were now warm with affection.

"I love you." When he'd finally said it, the words felt so true that he was relieved. He just hoped that Irial would return his favor.

They were both quiet for several moments, until Irial said, "I feel the same."

Before Niall could blink, Irial was pushed away from the rock and standing before him, even though the distance was short. The water made ripples around his form as Irial came closer to Niall's face.

Niall's breath hitched. He anticipated something, but wasn't quite sure what. It was only when Irial's mouth brushed against his that he understood, and longed for those touches. And when Irial's thumb stroked the contour of his cheek, making them flush even more than before.

Niall couldn't stop kissing his King, even when reason said that he should, even when their bodies crushed together in the waist deep water. Soon, Niall had Irial's back pressed into the stone wall where'd he'd started off, his lips red and sensitive to the touch. The moans that were exchanged when their lips parted gave Niall the incentive to kiss deeper, to push harder, to make his King beg for his body. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, Irial held onto the length of Niall's hair in his hands, crying out more and more, until they were both tired and fatigued.

Afterwards, they both lay on the slab of stone, watching the sun set until it was nearly dark. Niall stroked Irial's hair, brushing it out of his eyes as they gazed together.

"Sometimes I feel like we are the only ones out there", Irial had told him. "Do you?"

"Yes", Niall admitted, watching the water blacken with the growing night. "Often I want this. For things to be like this." He laid closer beside Irial. When the words came next, they were completely true. "You are the only person I truly trust."

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Niall hadn't noticed the pained expression that had crossed Irial's face until now, until he'd thought back to that moment. It only made him more depressed knowing that he'd perhaps been too blind to see that his trust was misplaced.

Turning away from the window, he pulled the letter from underneath the bed cushion and sat down. It was still torn, still hurtful to read, yet Niall read it again anyway. And he strangely wished that things could be different, that they had been. But those were only far away dreams that he would never be able to get back.


	12. Chapter 12

**I find this chapter epic, and I hope others do too. Nonetheless, here's chapter 12. And please, REVIEW.**

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Being in the Summer Court for almost a full week was taxing on Niall's part. From battling a growingly agitated Tavish on a daily basis and rejecting several new letters from Irial to caretaking for Miach's special assemblage of summer girls- the five who he never actually called his mistresses even as Niall figured out that that was what they were. Even speaking to Miach was becoming increasingly taxing, as the Summer faery seemed to expect so much from him at every hour. Sometimes, Niall found himself regretting that he'd accepted his position as Miach's advisor.

And at other times, he felt alone and unwanted.

As much as Miach assured him that he was one of 'them', a part of their 'family', Niall found that his scars were always ogled during practices and meets, and that his quiet was almost frowned upon at court galas. The only thing the others complimented him on was his dancing, but they had only seen him dance once at a gala with a summer girl, a dance he was coerced into by Miach, who believed that it would help him fit in more with the other court fey- and afterwards, Niall had sworn to himself that he wouldn't be dancing again anytime soon.

Now, sitting in the stone balcony above his room, he stared out at the setting sun and still snow in hopes of finding a sort of peace. While his early meditations often helped him focus, he was still plagued with thoughts of depression and anger, and was becoming increasingly quiet so as not to let others see.

The stone balcony was connected to a living area, a room filled with birds and nature, yet with seats and lounges- a room that was not his.

So when Niall did not hear a knock as Miach stepped through the doorway, he understood that it was because the room did not have a door.

"Hello, Miach", Niall said. He wasn't in the mood for many words.

"Hello." His King lit the room with a flame that was not unlike the sunset outside, and the warm made Niall turn around. "I cannot help but notice that you have been retreating to quiet places lately. Are you alright?"

Niall contemplated telling him the truth about his mood, but instead found himself avoiding it. "I'd rather not speak of it."

"Is there a reason?"

Usually, Miach's eyes were amber colored and reflective, but when they were probing for answers, they were far different from anything Niall had ever seen.

"Yes. But I do not want to talk."

Miach watched him in a silent stare for a while and then he said, "I will not probe you for answers, Niall. But I accepted you into this court for your happiness, and you do not seem at all happy."

Niall turned his head away and continued to watch the sun. He sighed. "Perhaps you are right." _I no longer see happiness._

"I am." There was no arrogance to the statement, but there was a certain determination.

"Then what do you want me to say, My King? What is there left?" Niall turned around in time to see the struggle of patience on Miach's usually calm face.

"I believe that if you choose to not-speak your problems, you should at least face them. Not what disguises itself as your problem, but the heart of the problem itself."

Niall could feel his pain overwhelming his irritation as he listened to what Miach said.

"Irial is your problem, Niall, is why you are still hurting. I can see it, and so can you."

Niall's throat felt dry and lumped, and he lost his words. _How does one name hurt me so?_

Niall turned away from is King abruptly. "What do you want me to say?" he repeated again, his voice a low hiss. "You have no idea what has happened to me, how I hurt. You have no idea. What do you want me to say to you?"

Niall felt Miach's hand on his shoulder from behind. "Not to me, Niall. To him."

At first, Niall was too awestricken to understand what his King had meant, but upon seeing the dark horse-drawn carriage navigating the frozen road to the Summer Palace, Niall's stomach tightened. He instantly turned away from the view. The balcony surely felt too cold, his mind too numb.

"You've invited him!" he cried, more a plea than a question.

Miach seemed nonplussed by Niall's distraught expression. "You need to speak to one another. At least once. And Irial and I are associates, so him being here isn't difficult for me ask."

"Why? Why would you do this? You don't know what he is!" Niall moved quickly to the doorway only to be grabbed by the arm by Miach's unnaturally warm hand.

"I need you, Niall, and if you aren't at your best, then neither am I." His amber eyes burned a hole into Niall's face.

"Let go of me." The words were curt as Niall glared at his King. "I have sworn my fealty to you, told you my darkest secrets and you repay me by brining the very cause of them _here._"

Miach's eyes lost their fire and gained exhaustion. He let go of Niall's arm. "This once, Niall. Just this once and I will not ask of it from you again."

Niall's breath slowed as he took in Miach's simple words. _Once. Can I be so selfish to disobey the one thing my King asks of me?_

Feeling defeated and hurt, Niall turned to the balcony and nodded once. A moment later, he heard Miach's footsteps as he left.

Niall gripped the cracked stone railing of the balcony ledge for support as he watched the snow from the below. The sun's rays made parts of it look red and for a moment, his mind flashed back to when his blood stained the snowy ground- _after _he_ hurt me._

Niall also noticed that the carriage had already arrived, but that no one was getting out. It was almost an eternity until he heard heavy footsteps reenter the room.

And it wasn't Miach who stood before him.

Instead, Niall turned to see Irial standing in the doorway. His dark hair framed his face and snowflakes were caught in the strands. He wore dark gloves and a black overcoat that stopped at his knee, where his dark boots were slick with snow. Two heavy steel chains hung from his neck. Niall felt his body bristle as his old King stared at him with a curiosity that was nonexistent in Niall's face.

Niall felt a swirl of emotions as he saw Irial's shadowed eyes watching him. Because even in his anger, he saw the same beauty that had compelled Niall for years.

Irial took two hesitant steps closer, and then opened his mouth as if to say something only to close it. When he did speak, all of the wonderful moments of before came rushing back to Niall. "You look different, Gancanagh. And your skin has darkened." And it was true, since Niall's perpetually pale skin had become more golden due to Summer's heat.

Niall's jaw tightened, yet he said nothing. _These scars you allowed them to give me are what make me look different. _He wanted to tell Irial what he was thinking, but his mind wouldn't allow him to.

Irial pursed his lips and let out a sound that almost sounded like a sigh. "You are still upset."

Niall's anger spiked. "You seem unsurprised", he hissed.

"Well no, actually. I am not." Irial walked fully into the room, examining the colorful birds and exotic wood as he spoke. "I am more surprised to find you in Miach's court than anything else." He stopped and looked Niall in the eye. "I presume you've receive my letters… and that you haven't replied to any at all."

Niall let out a scoff that was scornfully thick. "Did you expect that from me?"

The sides of Irial's mouth turned down. "No, but I was still hoping." The Dark King ran his hands along the velvet of one of the room's many duvets and folded himself gracefully into one. The chains around his neck rustled.

Niall stayed at a distance near the balcony and watched as Irial unpacked a new cigarette holder from his coat.

"I don't suppose you are going to ask Miach to light this for me." He turned his gaze away from the cigarette in his hand to an evidently angry Niall.

Niall glared at him silently, not saying a word. _There is nothing to say to him._

Irial shrugged and lit it himself in the fireplace of the room before sitting back down. Once he'd exhaled the first bout of smoke, he continued to watch Niall. "You cut your hair", he noted sadly. Niall knew that Irial was at least genuine with _those _feelings- Irial had always loved Niall's hair.

"Yes." It was the first word Niall had actually spoken.

It was then that Irial laughed- _And it sounded as enchanting as always._ "I don't suppose you've done that to spite me, have you?"

Niall's lips were tight as he said, "Why are you here? To mock me? To demean me more than you already have?"

Irial's eyes were suddenly ablaze with anger. "Is that why you think I am here?"

"Yes." When Niall spoke the words, he realized that they were true. "That and much more."

Irial stood up then, in a dept motion that Niall missed. "I wanted to see you, Niall. I have told you, I do care for you. More than you can imagine."

Niall's voice was a snarl. "This is how you _care_ for others you claim to love?"

Irial folded his arms over his chest. "It wasn't the best method, I admit, although it needed to be done."

Niall's fists balled up as he took a step toward Irial. "You allowed them hurt me", he hissed, feeling tears threaten. "You allowed them hurt me and you allowed Gabriel to scar me along with them."

"Do you think I wanted to?" Irial hissed back, his voice rougher than Niall ever remembered it being. "Do you not think that they would have obeyed me had I left you alone, Niall? You, the 'king's consort' who left the court without delay and punched the King of the Dark Court?"

"I had a reason", Niall said, his voice breaking. "You lied to me."

"Lied to whom?" Irial's face changed to something furious for a brief second before he shook his head. "It does not matter. Nothing I say will change how you feel about me or the deplorable habits of my court. But do know that this is not where you belong. You were never Summer Court, Niall."

Niall could feel his heart clench at the thought of not belonging anywhere- _neither Dark nor Summer._ As the pain of everything came rushing to him, he felt himself drowning. A solitary tear ran down his eyes. He turned away from Irial and returned to watching the sunset from the balcony. His hands gripped the railing for support as his voice broke. "Leave."

There was a long silence before Niall heard Irial's footsteps- _presumably to leave_- approach.

"You did love me once", he heard Irial say with pain in his voice that almost mirrored his own.

Niall tried to ignore how Irial's voice made him feel nothing but shame and guilt. Feeling tears threaten his eyes, he said nothing.

There were a few more steps before Irial said, "You may hate me, and if you do, I truly understand. Just know that a king makes terrible decisions, Niall, some of which I regret. But I've never stopped loving you." With that, Niall heard him leave as he descended the stairs.

Niall's guilt and pain overwhelmed the sudden anger he felt. The anger in knowing that Irial still loved him, that what he'd once thought to be a ruse wasn't. And as he let himself cry in those moments, the acknowledgement that he still loved Irial back hurt him the most.

As Niall watched the snow from above his balcony, he could see Irial leaving the court, the snow swirling around him as he made his way back to the carriage. Niall spotted Gabriel walking behind him, looking as menacing as always, even on a snowy noonday. However, while Gabriel held out Irial's door, Irial did not enter just yet. He stopped to stare up at the balcony, catching Niall's gaze, catching the still moist tears on Niall's eyes. Then afterwards, he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and disappeared into the carriage, leaving Niall feeling even colder than he had that morning.

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	13. Chapter 13

**So, here is the next chapter. I've updated, and although this chapter is very short, it _will _leave you wanting to read more. Just remember to review, as that's all I ask. Chapter 14 is coming along already, so enjoy!**

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In the still quiet that arises from a snow-covered evening, Irial stared out of the frosted carriage window. His breaths left wisps of smoke in the silence, a silence that Gabriel wasn't disturbing. Irial interlocked his gloved hands in contemplation as he watched the cold weather outside that was likely the result of Beira's reign.

"I have lost him, Gabriel", he found himself finally saying aloud. "More than you can ever imagine."

His eyes flittered to Gabriel for a brief moment before he resumed speaking. The hound was listening to his King, even as the upturned corners of his lip showed his reluctance.

"I want him back", Irial whispered to himself, in a voice than sounded vain, even to him. "Seeing him again makes me want him even more."

Gabriel did speak then. "Do you want me to retrieve him for you?"

Irial's eyes widened. "Gods no. It would only mar his feelings toward me more than they already are."

Gabriel shrugged slowly, watching Irial's lost expression with almost sympathy. "Then what?"

Irial shook his head and frowned. "I am not certain." When Gabriel had no response to that, then they both returned to the quiet of the carriage, listening to the wooden wheels hit the clumps of land beneath the snow.

Even after all of the love he'd shown Niall, it was all lost to lies. With flickering endearment, Irial turned to face Gabriel. He crossed his legs. "I assume you've returned the girl to him?"

Gabriel nodded once, his eyes remaining unchanged. "Yes. Though to be honest, Iri, I don't see why you bothered. She has lost her mind to the Court. Completely."

Irial took an intake of breath, letting the words slip out before he could hold them back. "She mattered to him, Gabriel. Enough that he would give himself to the Court for reasons I can scarcely fathom. She made him see something in himself worth sacrificing. The least I can do, if anything, would be retuning her to him."

Gabriel frowned. "You try so hard to improve matters that are already disheveled, Irial. Some things cannot be fixed. Returning the girl may only make things worse."

Irial's eyes narrowed for a moment before he returned to looking out of the window. He knew that Gabriel was right, but he was honestly paying penance for his actions as best he could. _Even if Niall rejects me._ And Irial couldn't forget the pain he saw on Niall's face as they departed. He knew that pain would haunt him forever. _He hates me with reason. And I do not deserve him. _Admitting that he did not deserve his Gancanagh wasn't the hardest part. The hardest was acknowledging that Niall wanted nothing to do with him.

Just as Irial found himself suddenly loathing his actions and who he had failed to be to Niall, Gabriel interrupted his train of thought.

"Perhaps you should try talking to him- not in his new court, but somewhere farther. He may not be as quick to judge then."

Irial shook his head with disappointment. "No. Surely that will fail." Irial sat forward, looking Gabriel in the eyes, his head inclining at an odd angle he reserved for storytelling. "You did not see him. Physically he looks… reserved, not as unrestrained as before. He now wears his hair shorn." He paused to think before shaking his head. "You did not see the differences that I saw, Gabe; the pain in his eyes, the scars, the frustration… the shadows.

"Before they clung to him, but now they drink in his presence. He is unwell. And I am to blame."

Gabriel hung his head. Whether in shame or boredom, Irial was unsure. Instead of trying to find out, Irial continued to watch the snow outside, thinking about how much he longed for Niall's touch and acceptance. Soon after, Irial's thoughts were incoherent, and the carriage came to a halt, Gabriel stepping outside to open Irial's door.

Feeling a melancholia that made him almost feel sick, Irial stepped into the cold, winding toward the path to the Dark Court's citadel, where he found himself trying to push the latter if his feelings behind him. _With Gabriel, I can confess my ills, though in the confines of the Court, they must be kept hidden._

Dark fey lingered in the snow by the castle, already having a festival of sorts without his consent. Some Ly Ergs were heatedly fighting amongst themselves, eagerly spilling blood with bone knives. He noticed some drunken summer fey being led into a dark copse of trees and sullen winter fey being restricted harshly by their wings only to be tortured for trying to escape. A cacophony of screams and desire hit him like a wave of delectable scent. He drank in the emotions without realizing.

Trying to prove himself a worthy king, Irial stepped into the depravity of his people, no longer concerning himself with his longing for his Gancanagh. It was all he could do to remain sane.

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	14. Chapter 14

**This is the next chapter. It sort of starts where the cliffhanger chapter with Irial left off. It's not as long as the other chapters, but I liked to write it. Please REVIEW, as it's all I ask for. Just decent criticism. Thanks. And I do not own WL. :)**

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The dull pain that accompanies loss wasn't as all-consuming since Niall managed to rest. Lying down and actually reflecting was something that kept his mind in control, even if Irial's surprising visit hurt him far more than he was showing. The dull ache in his chest, however, was proof of his deceit.

With a sigh, Niall once again realized that the room was not his. Yet even on this darkest hour, Niall found himself laying on one of the room's many duvets- careful to avoid the one Irial had sat on. For some reason, he felt that the Dark King's presence lingered there.

He stared at the painted cherubs that adorned the raised ceiling of Miach's living space, wondering who they were staring to for guidance. In that moment, he would have died to become one of those angels, to live forever under a deity's grace without fear of pain. _To not suffer._

"To feel peace." The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. Niall realized the power to what he'd said. He was not at peace with himself, and in truth, never was- even farther before the time he met Irial. When his mother left him to fend for himself in the world alone, unaware of the monsters that lurked within its deepened shadows, he lost his purity and his peace. _Peace to belong, peace to care._

The memories were so painful that they haunted him still. He could remember the night of the first day of summer, where his mother smiled at him dotingly, giving him one of her many hugs as he promised to be back soon. He was going by the lake near their house to bring her back orange berries she liked to bake with, so happy to be doing something to make his mother smile. When he came back to the house, berries in hand, it was empty of all important things, and his mother was gone. Fear had overtaken him immediately, and he called her name frantically, only realizing that she had left him. The loss he had felt then was equivalent to the loss he felt now, waiting in the dark- completely alone.

Niall stared off into the fading light of the ceiling, watching the sun set. He longed for the peace that was only a distant dream to him. He longed for its embrace. He closed his eyes to meditate against the forceful notion of time as silence crept around him. Tears were only dried.

Then he heard a scream.

Or perhaps he first believed it to be a scream. In reality, it was a cry- of joy or terror, Niall was unsure. But the scream was loud and piercing, and others' shouts and murmurs broke out along with it. With a sudden rush of adrenaline and paranoia, Niall leapt out of his resting place to join the unknown commotion. He could hear, while climbing downstairs, the new sounds of rejoice and fear.

In the foyer, a ring of summer fey converged, all surrounding an object Niall could not see.

"Our sister has returned", a vine girl whispered with tears in her eyes. Another began to weep. Niall glanced at her, and then at the group.

"What is happening?" he asked, pushing his way through. When he finally reached the center of the ring, he saw Miach supporting something, and looking completely void of all emotion. His brows were furrowed with pain.

With closer inspection, Niall saw that it was a girl, a mass of golden curls and splotches of blood. Her dress was torn so that a section of her bust was made bare. His fear sank in immediately, and when her green eyes drowsily met his gaze, Niall gasped.

"Anvia?" he asked, feeling total terror encroach on him.

Her mouth twitched as if she were going to speak or smile, but only a low guttural moan escaped before her eyes closed. Miach shook his head, glancing at Niall and then at the others. Standing, he beckoned a faery to his side to lift the girl and carry her off to one of the healing rooms. Niall watched with confusion and fear as her form dissipated up the stairs. Needing reassurance, he turned to Miach, who was asking that everyone return to their rooms while the matter be sorted out.

Once the crowd hesitantly dispersed, Niall met Miach's saddened gaze. He wanted to ask what happened to her, but then the reality of it all became extremely clear. She was victim of the Dark Court, and had suffered as much, if not worse than Niall had. So instead, Niall brought himself to ask how she could have deteriorated in such a short amount of time.

"But… how? I took her pain. She was released… like the others. Why is this happening?"

Miach's gaze locked with Niall's as he spoke. "After his visit with you, Irial dropped her off." Miach spoke the last sentence with acid. "I should have never invited him", he hissed.

Niall was taken aback by his King's tone. He'd not yet seen Miach angry. "But, shouldn't you be glad that she has returned?"

"No." The words were curt. "Not after what he did to her." Miach shook his head before leaning in to Niall. "I am far too upset to find words now, which I do apologize for. Go to Anvia for me. See if she is well."

With that, the Summer King left down a long corridor, leaving Niall standing frightened and alone.

Afterwards, Niall made his way to the healing room where Anvia was kept. There were two women trying to make lie down, but she was thrashing in their arms with tears rolling down her face.

"Release me!" she screamed, pushing one woman's face. The sight of her struggles made Niall suddenly reminded of his own desperate pleas.

Niall approached the girl quietly, trying to catch her gaze, but her eyes were darting unstably around the room. Instead, Niall knelt down beside her and held her face so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "Anvia, look at me."

Her arms thrashed, but then slowly ceased to move beside her. Relieved to see her under control, the two women quickly scurried from the room.

Niall tried to relate her features to the girl he'd spoken to weeks ago, but was unable to. Her eyes were drowsy and exhausted, carrying that sense of desire, fear, and high that was not uncommon among Irial's "broken toys". Her hair had no sheen, and her cheeks and mouth- along with the rest of her body- were stained with blood and bruises.

"Anvia, do you know who I am?" For some reason, her sanity rested on her knowing who he was. Niall was sure of it.

Her droopy green eyes blinked before she said, "Niall." Her hand had reached up to stroke his face. "They've come for you too."

Niall froze, wondering what she'd meant as her hand traced the scar on his face. "Darkness", she murmured, going into the same trancelike state as earlier. "Darkness and lust."

Gingerly, Niall shook her, returning her focus to the problem at hand. "Why are you like this? Irial let you go… I saw it."

Her green eyes narrowed slightly, but her lips smiled. Her expression was almost wicked. "When they leave you, you need to find others who will suffice. The feeling burns when they leave. Like all the desire in you needs more and more."

Niall looked awestricken as he processed her words. "You were so addicted that even after they let you go, you returned?"

Her placid smile was almost aggravating. "Yes… And I got what I wanted… and more…" Her eyes closed again as Niall shook her, this time angrily.

"Why", he whispered in a hard voice. "Why would you do that? Why would you want pain, after I'd accepted it for you? Why would you endure their beatings and cruelty when I saved you? I saved you all." The real question in Niall's mind was: _Why would you bastardize my sacrifice?_

Anvia gave no response. She just watched him with the same placid gaze as before.

With defeat and disgust, Niall released her, leaving the room as quickly as he could so as not to turn around and strangle her out of anger. _Had Irial deliberately returned her to taunt me, to prove a point?_ Niall needed rest, and through his frustration sought out his bedroom. He knew now that his life held no value, as even the hardest choice he'd ever made in his entire existence was all for nothing.

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**REVIEW!**


	15. Chapter 15

**So, after a while on non-updates, muse struck and I wrote. And this is the outcome. It's not much, but I got the idea from Old Habits. So, with that said, Old Habits and WL are written by Melissa Marr, not me. I just like to use her characters in my boiling pot of fic to satisfy the events that happened that aren't really clarified in-text. Wow, that was a mouthful. Enjoy and REVIEW! Also, it's Iri's P.O.V.**

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The bruig was a cacophony of madness and laughter as Irial took a seat amongst his fey. Surveying the room, he could see the melee unfolding. Their sorrows were as disturbing as their bloodlust and the hate, deceit, and strange happiness was a strong draft in the air. Yet Irial felt all of it. Within the shadowy coils that wound their way into each faery, Irial's held a tethered bond to each of them, reading their deepest pains and desires.

Some stared at him, awaiting his next move, while others indulged in the newly enslaved Summer, Winter, and High court fey. Lone, frightened solitaries cried quietly as they watched the debauchery and carnage.

Irial took three discreet glances before finally settling into his dais, and then stared off into the crowd. After a signaling glance at Gabriel, Irial sat more rigid in his seat, eyes going hard. The Hound let out a clear growl as he snarled, "Silence!"

Then the room went quiet.

Of course, Irial knew that it would. Gabriel had killed one of his own centuries back for merely questioning Irial's decision to keep the Hounds from massacring a small village in The Isles.

The Hound glared at anyone he even considered to be traitorous. Irial said not a word. Instead, he raised a hand for silence and smiled at his people. It was a difficult façade to wear, especially knowing that they were the ones who'd broken Niall. _The ones who hurt him in front of my very eyes. Yet a King shows no weakness._

Irial pushed that thought aside as he said, "I wish to call an adjournment from recent activities. All of them."

The eyes in the crowd were a mixture of curious to hostile. It as evident that they hated being interrupted from their frightened prey, yet also evident that many of them held an underlying dislike of Irial. Two glastaigs Irial had overheard commenting on him regarded him wearily as he consumed their bitter fear.

"Recent… incidents have occurred in which the outcome was quite displeasing." Irial paused, trying to erase the sight of Niall lying broken and blood-smeared from his mind. "Even now, I see that there are fey here who are held against will. Thus, there shall be no more abducting of fey without their consent. Under this decree, there shall no longer be festivals in the bruig where fey are forced into coming here, being used, and manipulated. Not without their consent."

Once Irial finished, there was an uproar of comments.

"You cannot do that!"

"Things have always been this way!"

"Whose King are you?"

Yet, with another ear-shattering roar, Gabriel silenced them all. "If any of you dare question my king, you _will_ challenge me. Are any willing to challenge?"

The fey murmured in low, hushed voices, but spoke nothing louder than that. Their fear was a heavy elixir on Irial's tongue, and they were feeding him quite efficiently.

The crowd's hushed whispers descended into silence until all was still.

Except for one.

In the midst of the crowd there stood a red-haired faery with fangs. And aside from his violet eyes, he stood out amongst the throng, standing upright while the others were kneeling. His words were a hiss. "I do not take orders from a king that executes such law because of a broken child who unmans him."

The fury on Irial's face was too prolonged to be flittering. His eyes glittered black as he gripped his throne tightly. "You will learn respect, or you will be fulfilling it in death."

Gabriel had his steel blade in his hand, prepared to kill the one who was causing his king trouble. "You dare speak such words to our King?" he snarled.

The faery scowled, looking from Gabriel to Irial. "Your _Gancanagh_ had no right being here, Irial. He was foolish to believe you, and even more foolish to attempt running. No one escapes the bruig."

Irial glared at the faery with pain in his chest. Bringing up Niall made him so very upset. _A brave one, he is. _"Your words are meaningless, and my time is minute." _Yet imbecilic._

"Your time matters little in my eyes, my _King_. What right have you to change the way things have always been over a boy?"

Irial sat up, leaning closer to the faery with stone-cold eyes. "Your mouth will silence or I will silence you for eternity. You will _not _forget that you have a king. _Kneel_."

The look that crossed his violet eyes was one of sheer disobedience. The faery took a menacing step closer, sneering. "Have I wounded you, my King? Does speaking of your precious _Gancanagh_ burn a fissure in your soul? Do the memories kill you? The way he screamed and begged for mercy and we struck him like one does when pets-"

In the next second, Irial was holding the faery's throat in his hand, leaving faery sputtering for breath. Onyx eyes as dark as volcanic stone burned holes through the faery's head. "Silent" Irial hissed.

"My King-" The words were difficult to form.

"Silent!" Irial roared. And before the fanged-fae could speak another word, his throat was crushed into a mass of blood and flesh, leaving the head and its red hair dangling loosely by a mangled neck.

Dark blood ran down Irial's forearm and speckled his face as he squeezed harder into what was left of a throat.

The silence that was once frightening amplified once Irial dropped the body to the ground. The Dark King neither retreated to his dais nor sat down. Instead, he addressed his people, the calm in his voice completely gone.

"My decree is final. If any wish to question me, by all means, do it. I will not repeat myself again", he snarled.

When no one answered him, Irial gave Gabriel a hard look, and in return, the Hound dragged the bloodied corpse from the ground.

Irial snatched a cigarette from his box- smudging it red from the blood on his hands- and took a long breath of smoky air. Then, wiping red from his face, gave cold stares to the crowd. His eyes landed fixedly on the captured Court fey who were in various stages of undress, remembering each of their faces.

With a cold detachment he said, "You are free to go."


	16. Chapter 16

**So after a while of no updates, and idea fluffing, here's the result. It's Niall's POV and he talks about getting his life on track. That's as much as I'll tell you, since the rest you need to read on your own. ^.^ Once again, I do not own Wicked Lovely, nor do I own any of these wonderful characters. Melissa Marr does, and I love her for it! I just like using them sometimes. Now the dilemma I have is deciding when I should end this story and begin a continuation of it, etc. *shrug* When the time comes, I'll know.**

**Also, please REVIEW guys! I want to know if I've lost my writer's touch from a lack of updates. These are important to my stamina y'all. 0_0**

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Niall did not speak to Anvia again. Nor did he ask anyone in the palace what would become of her. Nor did he leave his bedroom. For the rest of that evening, and into night hours, Niall sat staring at his ceiling, trying to wake himself from the misery of his life in the hopes that it was all a dream. Had he really been betrayed by the only man he ever loved; had that same man allowed his court to brutally violate him; had the attack been meaningless?

_Why can't I achieve peace?_ He'd believed that joining the Summer Court would alleviate some of the pain, but it seemed that Irial still had a hold on him- even without being there. All Niall truly desired was a positive change from the events of his life, no matter how small. Yet after hours of wasted time and tears, he was certain that nothing had or would change, and that he was indeed, pathetic.

_You'd be nothing more than a common whore like I found you_, Irial had told him before their departure. A small part of Niall knew that to be true, yet another part of him wished that it weren't. Before he met Irial, before he knew what it meant to be a gancanagh, even before he knew of the debauched pleasure Irial introduced, Niall himself had been enjoying unique pleasures of his own. After his mother's sudden abandonment, Niall searched for love elsewhere, finding it in the forms of luscious women and indulgent men whom he wanted and who wanted him in return. None of his escapades could compare to that of the ones he had experienced with Irial, but they were memorable all the same. He'd thrown himself into the arms of strange mortals and faeries alike, all for the rush of sex- the high. _The control_. He'd never before questioned his attractiveness to mortals, or their obsession to touch and taste him. In his mind, it was how things were supposed to be when it came to sex.

Yet, for all of Niall's fueled desire, there was a fear and an clear innocence that only Irial had ever tapped into. _And that is why I hate the bastard_, Niall thought acidly. Irial hadn't just had enjoyed him like the others- he'd exploited his soul for the good it had, the youth and unworldliness Niall possessed, his not-yet-tainted virtue. And then Irial had torn him to shreds and destroyed that innocence until all that was left was fear and pain and heartache.

Niall's tear-red eyes glanced around the room and he swallowed. He was so upset that Irial had ruined him, that he had been stupid enough to trust another man with his life. _Especially a selfish faery king._ But would he be able trust Miach the same way he'd trusted Irial? Would that too be foolish? Niall was tired, but angry all the same. Knowing that he'd subjected himself to the pain of being used all for some mortals who were destined to die anyway made he himself want to die. Or kill someone. _Or do both._

Seeing the unapologetic stare in Irials's cold eyes as they used him up, as they made him weep, as they broke him- that was what undid Niall. And as he remembered the lack of life in Anvia's face as he held her, in that instant, Niall wished Irial dead. Wished they had never deigned to meet, wished that heir paths never crossed, that his mother never left without warning. Niall wanted to strangle his former king until the life left his cruel, stoic black eyes. He wanted to see Irial suffer the pain he had, wanted him to bear his scars and bruises forever, as Niall would now have to. Niall wanted to watch his sardonic smile melt in blue flames as Niall watch from a nearby crowd teeming with evil enjoyment.

Niall quickly sat up from his bed in shock, his own vicious thoughts toward his former king frightening him. Niall had never been one to fantasize hideous thoughts about others, even those who had deeply wronged him. He especially didn't want to begin now. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Niall tried not to think about Irial or the Dark Court. He tried only to think about his current court and his current king.

_Miach, who has been nothing but kind to me._ Miach could be trusted. Miach deserved Niall's loyalty. Miach was worth living for, worth staying strong for.

Two large raps from the door made Niall's startle. "Who is it?" Niall called, trying to hide the grogginess from his voice.

"Tavish. Open your door. Miach is worried for you."

Niall tried to sound irritated to hide the shakiness in his voice. "Worried for me?" he snorted. "So he sent _you_ to console me? Why did he himself not appear?"

Tavish made a sound of his own, but unlike the noises he'd made when speaking to Niall in the past, this one was gentle. "Do not mistake My King's choice to send me as a sign of disregard. He makes proper decisions to benefit those who are his." Then more gently he said, "Niall, I am not here to shame you. Nor am I here to insult you. Miach was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing, as am I."

Niall couldn't believe his ears when he heard Tavish speak of being kind to him. He paused for a moment before hesitantly asking, "Sincerely?"

Tavish's answer was curt, but earnest. "Yes."

Niall waved his hand at the door and said, "Come in then."

Tavish took several steps into the room before stopping to assess Niall. His eyes took in his younger advisor's blotchy face and reddened eyes as swiftly as he would any court fey. With a dignified stance, he walked to the door and closed it, then resumed watching Niall. "You were crying, I suppose." It wasn't a question.

Niall shifted uncomfortably where he sat before saying, "My tears are never shed without reason. Although surely you wouldn't understand the complexity of tears seeing as you refuse to shed any to begin with."

Tavish was taken aback by Niall's comment. He narrowed his eyes. "I shed tears."

Niall met his gaze levelly. "Ah, mayhap you do, old friend. Though what know you of love, of pain, of sheer misery? You say that I cry, yet show little compassion. What know you of how I feel?"

Tavish watched Niall's tearstained eyes carefully before saying, "I feel, boy. More than you can imagine, but I refuse to be seen doing it." He stood stiffer than before and nervously tugged the long silver braid he wore his hair in. "This is your court now, and My King indeed cares for you, but you must learn to enjoy it the way it should be enjoyed."

Niall watched Tavish, Miach's eldest advisor, with uncertainty. Just yesterday Tavish had insulted him, had refused to so much as call him 'friend'. Now the older faery was giving him life lessons. With a swallow Niall asked, "Why do you care, Tavish? What does my wellbeing mean to you? Ever since my arrival, I've been nothing but a burden to you- a novice fool to train, a stranger promoted to advise your King. You haven't exactly been welcoming. Nor have you been compassionate."

Tavish looked at Niall for a long time before saying, "You ask me about compassion, about friendliness, yet what do you know? I never welcome any stranger my King brings in, no matter how sincere he claims to be. I am never compassionate towards any once-ally to an opposing court, no matter how depressing his tale. In order to be an advisor to a king, Niall, you must always expect the unexpected from those your King suddenly favors."

Niall's nostrils flared. "You though that I would harm Miach?" he asked.

Tavish flipped his silver braid over his shoulder before saying, "It takes only one faery to slip inconspicuously through the cracks before your King is hurt."

"I would never harm Miach", Niall growled. "I owe him my life."

"And that I believe", Tavish answered curtly. "I do not think you would harm My King, but I always take precautions. And your wellbeing, like that of the other court fey, means that my King thrives. You speak of caring for our King, yet a sulking Summer faery is not going to help the court, Niall. Understand that."

Niall's eyes met the gleaming wood of his bedroom floor. Was he being selfish? A court's monarch gained power from his court's enjoyment, and Niall was not helping Miach at all with his constant tears. Niall needed to be strong so that his King would be strong. Frailty could not be tolerated. _I will help this court- not weaken them. _With slow deliberation, Niall stood. Then he said, "You are kind to have shared this knowledge with me, Tavish."

Tavish, who had expected an argument, was quite surprised to hear Niall's admission. "Oh… well then, I am glad to have been of assistance." His silver gaze met Niall's and then his hand gripped the door handle. "Miach will come speak to you himself, I presume. Tidy yourself."

Niall nodded tightly and watched Tavish leave. The honesty Tavish voiced in the conversation had been both informative and upsetting. Niall was glad that he'd learned something about his new teacher's attitude towards him, yet was angry with himself for all of the depression he'd subjected his court to. He felt unworthy for his actions, for letting Miach down, for blaming himself for events he could not control. _No more_, he vowed. _I no longer live on Irial's leash. I am Miach's advisor, I am strong._

He was tired of breaking down, tired of craving the Dark King's presence, tired of finding fault with himself. Niall sighed with frustration and sank into his down bed. As much as Irial's presence had unnerved him, he would find a way to sever his tie to the Dark Court. Niall looked around his bedroom. It was golden, bright, and airy. Tropical plants grew in all corners and ran along the posts of his bed. The stone walls were washed to a light grey and the golden candelabras illuminated corners of the room like a sunset. Niall knew that the scenery itself was proof that he was no longer a thing of the shadows. No longer Irial's. No longer _dark_.

Niall closed his eyes, imagining how sweet life would taste when he finally escaped the demons that chased him, when he finally discovered peace. As he opened them, he swore that he would be a thing of sunlight and of happiness. He wouldn't be the monster Irial wanted him to be. He wouldn't use up mortals. He wouldn't allow himself to be hurt again. He would finally be free.

With a shaky hand, Niall removed Irial's most current letter from the stack of letters he kept beneath his mattress and grabbed a quill to write with. With a new sheet of parchment, Niall pressed his pen to the wrinkled paper and wrote:

Irial,

I am now writing to you on behalf of my own personal growth and not for any other reason you may believe befits your court. As a premise to this letter of sorts, I will make clear that I am no longer yours, nor am I of the Dark Court, so your constant letters will do little to persuade me otherwise. No, I have not seen the current Winter Queen of late, and no, I will not write to you whenever I am in her presence. My affairs in the Summer Court have little to do with the Regent of the Dark Court. I've also come to acknowledge that, although you address me as the "Advisor To The Summer Court" when you write, your letters are no more formal than they were before I left your court. Your feigned concern for me and for Summer Court matters is prettily worded, but I find that you should remain concerned solely for your people as you always have been. If you were truly concerned for me, you would leave me be in the Summer Court, and you would cease in writing to me any more. I wish I were able to tell you that we could one day be friends again, but I cannot. Things will never be as they were before, and for that, I am rueful. Yet your actions have shown me that love cannot exist between two individuals who walk such stray paths. Was it not you who told me: "To forgive is to make peace, but to ignore is to forget"? I will never forget and I cannot forgive. So to the Regent of the Dark Court, I say farewell.

-Niall

And afterwards, though his hands trembled and a solid tear ran down his cheek, Niall felt closure, and finality was what he'd known he needed all along. _It brings me one step closer to happiness and to my court._


	17. Chapter 17

**This chapter ties a lot of things together in my vision of things. And so this is the last chapter before I jump about 300 years later. Trust me guys, it's necessary for story progression- and in faery time, it's but a blink. ;) It's Irial's POV, and it's a long chapter, so enjoy. There's also a bit of sexy stuff in here, so beware of that (but then again, if you read this far...) Once again, I do not own Wicked Lovely or any of the characters associated with it. I just write with them and throw in some of my own on occasion. PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Since creating his new decree, Irial had been subtly avoiding any scenarios where the court would meet as a group. Being in contact with his people- for the first time in a long time- made him bitter and indifferent. Seeing the now thriving Dark Court made him remember they were the ones who'd hurt Niall, the ones who secretly wanted to replace him as Bannanach had so wantonly enthused. He was unpleasantly upset with his people and with himself, even though he was scarcely visible in showing it.

After the commotion that came with the passing of his new law, Irial was less than enthusiastic to speak to anyone- even Gabriel. _And Gabriel has done nothing to deserve my indifference._ If anything, the Hound was a soothing- albeit refreshingly violent- companion of sorts; he viewed Irial as his equal, yet respected him like one as well.

Irial knew that for sure, yet after his own violent explosion in the bruig, Irial cared little for reverence. Later that day he was tired, overwhelmed, and angry. Anger made up the bulk of his emotions.

So when he returned to his home only to find Darin awaiting him in his bedchamber, Irial's temper spiked. "Why are you here?" he hissed. Irial had yet to shower, and the deceased faery's blood caked parts of his hands and speckled his face. The immediate filth he had yet to rid himself only added to his severe apathy.

Darin's hazel gaze met Irial's hesitantly as he shifted on Irial's bed. Fear and excitement rolled off of him in waves as Irial carefully assessed him. Darin was a handsome young man with a lean build. His features were angular- _like Niall's_- and his hair was a sandy brown that touched his upper back. A perfect mix of masculine and feminine features created a splendor that very few of even the most lovely fey could project with ease.

_Stunning_, Irial noted to himself, suddenly remembering Niall's similar beauty. Then his eyes became cold again as he realized that the boy in front of him was not Niall. "Why are you here?" Irial repeated more menacingly.

Darin's hollow voice evinced just how fragile he was, and Irial took guilty pleasure in that. "To please you, My King." He stared at Irial with thick lashes from his seat on the Dark King's bed. "To alleviate your melancholy."

Irial's eyes widened as he watched the creature waiting eagerly on his bed, awaiting his approval. "Why would you think me melancholic, Darin? And who invited you to my bedchambers?" Irial took one step towards the bed, close enough to hear Darin's heart speed up.

Darin lowered his head respectfully. "After Rorn spoke out, you were very upset. Afterwards I tried to find you alone so that we could speak, but you were nary available. I sought your bedroom. Forgive me, My King, if I've offended you."

Irial stared down at Darin's attractive face. The boy's lips were moist, full, tender, and they were always in a pout even when Darin wasn't upset. This time the corners of the younger faery's mouth held a silent plea.

It was not wrong for a subject to want to pleasure his king- _especially one as lovely as Darin_, Irial thought slowly. _To help one's monarch helped the Court. _Darin was also always one of Irial's personal favorites when Niall wasn't available. _Or when he was available._ Like Niall in his agility, Darin was a fun sport in bed. _A glorious plaything._ Though for all of Darin's specialties, he would ever compare to Niall in or out of Irial's bed. Darin simply provided a convenient distraction. _A distraction well worth it at the moment._

When Irial fisted his hand in Darin's sandy hair and tugged his face upwards, the faery merely blinked at him expectantly. Irial liked that. With a wicked grin Irial asked, "You wish to please me, Darin?"

Darin nodded as best he could with Irial's hand at his scalp and said, "Yes, My King." His words were shaky as he spoke, his body faintly shivering with fear and anticipation.

Irial hadn't bothered with words. Feeling the cackle of his anger and his newfound lust, he crashed his lips into Darin's, cradling the back of Darin's head with one hand, his other hand tightening on the other faery's waist. Darin let out a moan as Irial slid his less occupied hand into his own pants and stroked himself steadily. Spreading his legs further apart, Darin pressed his arousal to Irial's hand, and Irial growled low in his throat. After moments of merely touching, Irial was tired of withholding. With dexterous fingers, the Dark King unbuttoned his pants and freed himself, all the while pressing Darin to the bed. His lips brushed over Darin's with need, no longer concerned with his subject's fears and excitement, but with his own pleasure. Darin was breathless as Irial flipped him onto his stomach and began to tug down his trousers.

"My King", he whispered hesitantly. "Shouldn't this part wait? I think-"

"Hush", Irial silenced, kissing the back of his neck. "Think naught. Feel."

Darin's fear began to dissipate as Irial eased himself over Darin's bare bottom and left more kisses along his throat. Irial barely registered the small moan that escaped his subject's mouth before Irial roughly entered him.

Grabbing Darin's trim waist, Irial continued to pleasure himself and Darin as the younger faery let out mewls of satisfaction. Hearing Darin's cries of raw pleasure as he entered him made Irial groan respectively.

Coitus with Darin was completely different than with Niall. With Niall, Irial was gentler, was concerned, was partial. With his subjects, more oft than not, he lacked those things. The lust they provided him with went a long ways to feed the Dark Court, but Irial had little to no platonic feelings for them. Darin, while one of Irial's preferred playthings, was still a casual distraction. The feelings he harbored for Niall -_and for not all of the Dark Court_- would never be replaced.

And as Darin's cries increased, and as Irial also cried out, Irial was forced to acknowledge that Niall was gone. That no one- _not even the lovely Darin_- could take his place. With a final moan, Irial came, Darin mewling beneath him.

And though Irial had expected the distraction to make him forget about Niall and the violent events of the day, he felt no more relieved than he had prior to the engagement. While Darin seemed blissfully serene, save for his heavy breaths, Irial on the other hand was quite dissatisfied afterwards.

Pushing himself from Darin, fastening his pants, and sitting on the edge of his bed, Irial stared off at the darkness encroaching on his window outside. He was suddenly bored and tired, as if the last moments he spent with Darin were wasteful.

Then Irial felt Darin's slight hands squeeze his shoulders consolingly. "Are you well, My King?"

"Yes", Irial murmured, turning to face Darin. "You may leave now."

Darin was taken aback by Irial's sudden need for solitude and showed as much. "Have I done something wrong, My King? Normally you enjoy my presence."

"I did enjoy your presence", Irial replied. "I feel… somewhat sated."

Darin swallowed, but commenced rubbing his king's shoulder blades. "You are never so quick to rid yourself of me, My King. And I believe you are always sated when I am involved in your pleasure." When Irial refused him a response, Darin ran his fingers down Irial's spine to elicit a reaction. When his king continued to ignore him still, Darin kissed Irial's shoulder from behind and his voice lowered gently. "Is it Niall?" he asked hesitantly, still stroking Irial's shoulders.

In a flash, Irial was tightly grasping Darin's jaw in his hand, his abyss-guardians flaring to life in an instant, his dark wings close to extending. The other faery's heart beat loudly as he stared at the Dark King. "Do _not_ speak of Niall", Irial rebuked. "Your services were most welcomed- now leave."

Darin's eyes widened. "But, My King-"

Irial's hand tightened on his throat warningly, staring into his hazel eyes. "I said _leave_, Darin." Then Irial shoved him away harshly.

Without being told again, Darin redressed himself and bowed to his King. "I apologize", he muttered weakly before fleeing Irial's room.

Irial ran a hand through his hair in frustration after Darin left. The sex hadn't helped him the way he thought it would. Instead, he was less angry but more irritable. _Why does Niall's name still hold sway over me?_ he wondered. Had it been necessary to flare at Darin like that? Irial's abyss-guardians retreated, and his wings retracted as he calmed down.

Instead of trying to reason with his actions, Irial walked to his bathroom and ran a hot bath for himself. _I deserve it_, he thought bitterly, inhaling the fragrance of sandalwood and violets. As he sank his body into the warm water, he tried to forget Niall leaving him, tried to forget the dim light in Niall's eyes as Irial ordered his demise. Irial even tried to forget visiting him at Miach's Court only to be rejected in return.

_And how much it hurt_. Irial would do anything to get Niall back, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. The issue was simply that Niall had no intention of coming back.

Putting the events of the day behind him, Irial tried to enjoy his nightly bath. Even if he was bathing alone.

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When Irial finally left his bedroom, Gabriel was waiting for him in the parlor room of his home. The Hound's massive height made looking him in the eye a challenge, but after practically an eternity of being at his side, Irial didn't always feel obligated to.

"Irial", Gabriel said with a deep bow. When Irial nodded in acknowledgement, Gabriel stood up and grinned. "I saw Darin not long ago."

Irial's eyes met Gabriel's in a sideways glance to hide his amusement. "Did you, now? Did he say anything?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No. He seemed frightened enough. Nearly jumped when he saw me. Then he took off down the hall."

Irial smiled briefly before turning to Gabriel. "Is there more news?"

His protector's stance straightened, and his face changed suddenly, became closed off. It was a face that said many things depending on the situation; this time it said business. "Yes. Miach is here."

Irial's heart thumped loudly in his chest with anticipation. Miach- _Niall's current king_- had paid him a visit. _Why? _Irial and Miach were never enemies; if anything, the two were closer than associates. But of late the Summer King's mind was deluded, clouded by fantasies of the Winter Queen. He was spending time with Beira and inviting her to his court more often than necessary, and Irial could see no apparent good coming from that arrangement. Nonetheless, Miach was still fascinating, and Irial was still interested in speaking to him.

"Is he within castle walls?" Irial asked quietly so as to hide his delight.

"Yes", Gabriel answered. "He awaits you in the greathall. But heed his behavior, Irial. Miach was not amiable when he arrived, nor was he when I sought you out."

Irial didn't need to be told that Miach was temperamental- it was the nature of Summer. Miach was always one to switch emotions constantly. It did matter, however, that he not lash out and strike Irial. It would be a shame if there were a war between the Summer and Dark Court, especially because Irial still considered Miach his friend.

"I will heed your advice, Gabe." Then, looking forward to a visit from the Summer King, Irial tried to hide his past irritation as he headed to the greathall, Gabriel close on his heels.

The greathall was a large room, usually serving as both a waiting area and meeting place of sorts for some court matters. A large medieval chandelier made of brass hung from a high, raised ceiling, and faded black roses adorned the walls. On the farthest side of the room, above the giant hearth, stood a newly executed painting of the Dark King in all of his majestic glory.

Irial descended the stairs at a calm pace, moving with a speed that neither hid his excitement nor made it strictly obvious. When he reached the bottom of the winding staircase, Irial could see the Summer King's glowing form illuminate the dark room. Miach stood with his back to Irial, his long copper hair falling to his waist in innumerable plaits. Golden beads laced the tips of his braids.

Upon hearing Irial's footsteps, the Summer King spun around with a grace reserved for kings. "Irial", he said simply. The anger Gabriel had mentioned was barely visible in his voice, but Irial could both taste it and see it in his defiant stance.

"Miach." Irial approached Miach in a friendly manner, clapping the Summer King on the shoulder with a hand. "'Tis truly a delight to have you, my friend."

Miach's warm amber eyes were strikingly cold as he took in the Dark King. "How kind of you, Irial. Though do tell me why 'tis a delight. I see no reason for your excitement."

Irial, taken aback by the Summer King's unfriendly demeanor, met Miach's own level tone. "You are a friend to me, Miach. You know that." His eyebrow raised. "Or mayhap you do not."

Miach took a step towards Irial, close enough to make the space between them intimate, and narrowed his eyes. "Mayhap I _was_ a friend to you, Irial. Though that was before you sent Anvia back to me in such a ruined condition."

Irial's eyes narrowed in return and he took a dominant stance. "I returned her to you, did I not?"

Miach's jaw was taut. "Indeed- you did. She was unstably insensible."

"All playthings are, Summer King", Irial scoffed. "You have more than a few yourself."

Irial's referral to Miach's mistresses as throwaways made the Summer King seethe with barely concealed anger. The taste of Miach's emotions was a tang on Irial's tongue.

Miach's voice was cool and precise as he spoke next. "Mayhap your use of playthings exceeds my own usage, seeing how you easily discard those you claim to love."

Irial felt like he'd been punched in the stomach by Miach's words. Niall was more than just a plaything to him, and Miach knew that. To easily insult Irial's relationship with Niall set Irial on fire. The Dark King took a delicate step closer to his friend, his associate, and ground out: "Tread carefully, Summer King. I have no quarrel with you or yours. But no not underestimate the power of the Dark King."

Miach returned the venom in Irial's eyes with, "I do not underestimate you, Irial, nor do I come here to unman you in your home, but you've caused greatly unacceptable commotion in mine." Miach's gaze was serious. "If returning Anvia was your way of paying penance for the inhumane acts you've done to Niall, you have failed greatly. If anything, old friend, my advisor wants less to do with your court than before."

When Irial opened his mouth to curse at the Summer King, Miach pulled out an envelope from his vest pocket and handed it to Irial.

"What the hell is this?" Irial asked, especially irritated with his old friend. The envelope was new, smelled new, felt new. _It also smelled like Niall._ As Irial broke the golden seal in the parchment, he glanced up at Miach, who seemed even more irritated than he himself was.

"A letter. It'd be prudent if you read it."

Muttering to himself, Irial began reading the note carefully, his heart increasing to an almost audible sound. He clutched the paper in his hand tightly, feeling the sweat on his palms leave a stain. _Niall has finally written to me on his own. _The hope that filled Irial in those moments was enough to erase the feeling of sadness that had been following him all day. _What would he write? _Irial wondered with incredulity, caught in the trance of holding the he read the first line, Irial's anticipation and hope met an all time high.

Then the hope diminished into smoke the more he read Niall's precisely written words.

The words sliced through him like knives the farther along he was with the letter, the more he realized it was his Gancanagh writing to him-not kindly, but impassively. Then they cut deep when he read the last lines.

_Was it not you who told me: To forgive is to make peace, but to ignore is to forget"? I will never forget and I cannot forgive. So to the Regent of the Dark Court, I say farewell._

Irial's words caught in his throat as his body shook slightly. When he spoke, the words were but a whisper. "Niall wrote this?"

Miach nodded silently, and if Irial weren't completely distraught, he would have tasted the Summer King's sadness.

Irial's eyes scanned the letter again in hopes of finding something endearing, but it was vacant of any affection. _The one time Niall writes to me it is to say goodbye_, Irial thought miserably. Then, as the faith faded completely, Irial's eyes misted with unshed tears. But he wouldn't let Miach see him in pain. Swiftly turning his back to the summer King, with his sorrow barely contained, Irial said, "I have told you; I have no quarrel with you or your court, Miach. You can rest assured that your women are safe. My court will no longer be abducting others against their will." Then in a whisper, Irial said, "If you have said all that there is you've come to say, you may take your leave."

When Miach didn't answer, Irial began to ascend the stairs. He felt cold inside. Then he felt Miach's warm hand on his shoulder, not turning him around, but holding him in place. "For most other fey, I show little compassion, Irial. Do know that I would like us to be friends still. But if I must choose between a friendship and my court, my court will always favor." Then, before Irial could comment, Miach was walking away, his footsteps echoing as he left Irial facing the stairs alone in the greathall. The sound of his horses racing off into the snow-chilled night made Miach's departure more definite. _He is returning to Niall_, Irial thought sadly. _To his court._

The breath left Irial's chest as he reread the letter once more. Then in lonely silence at the bottom of the stairs, clutching Niall's cold letter and churning with sorrow, Irial let himself weep bitter tears.


	18. Chapter 18

**So after a long wait, I finally found the energy to put my plot back into motion. So here you have it. Chapter 18. It takes place a few centuries after the last place we last left off. I really hope that it's well received, and I would appreciate feedback. Sexy things may also occur, so be aware of that. Thanks for all of the support, especially _lullagic_ for her motivating message. And thanks for all of the reviews from everyone. I would love some more. Again, I don't own Wicked Lovely. I just like to write about the Dark Kings. ^_^ Enjoy! And _REVIEW!_**

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For Niall, times had grown more bearable. But even though such positivity was reshaping him, Niall's life was still only bearable, and not splendid. He still had his memories, and he still had the trauma. But most of all, he still had a heart. And at times, that same heart wouldn't allow him to feel as passionately as he once felt or delve as deeply as he once did, because _it too_, still remembered before.

But with the memories no longer realities, Niall knew that he would be alright. He would one day be almost completely healed. _I survived. _That _is what matters most._

So with his past behind him, Niall was proud to say that three hundred years after leaving Irial, he truly believed he'd found his semblance of happiness.

Life was more drastically changed than it had been before; in a completely positive direction for Niall. He was now Advisor to the Summer King alongside the solemn Tavish; no longer just Niall, the broken boy Miach had found. He was no longer 'that child' whom Irial had used. He had a purpose now. A greater purpose than he had before.

And although he found himself being the center of attention at Court, he didn't mind. Such attention would have once bothered him immensely but now, as a brand new faery, it was not completely undesirable.

Miach openly praised him for his blatant care and sympathy for others who were troubled and of need of guidance with a toast. Miach congratulated Niall's determination and advancement in rank with a solemn nod.

And not once did the Summer King mention Niall's life before. Neither did Niall.

Keeping his darkest memories at bay was the only way he could live this light, airy world that seemed to him almost a sort of pretense. Only then would he be able to walk the halls of Court without shame, guilt, and frustration. Only then could he drink summer wine with his peers and not worry about whether or not he would betray any of the fears and insecurities that still rode him deep.

Niall liked this quaint little life he'd created for himself. And no one would take it from him, as long as he could help it.

In the front row of the grand hall, Niall sat watching the Equinox festival unravel. A train of dancers spiraled across the isles, entangling fey in their embrace as a group of talented musicians played a fanciful tune. Niall and Tavish sat on either side of Miach, who was sitting in a throne made of mahogany and orchids. Niall watched observantly as his King tapped his fingers on the arm of the throne in rhythm with the music. More flowers blossomed from where his hand rested.

The dancers, who were ornately dressed in fine golds and silks finally made their way to the front of the hall, where Miach sat and danced a lovely circle around him. Niall tried to revel in the soft enchantment of the music, allowing his eyes to linger on the dancing girls and boys. Finally, the dancers stopped in unison and one of the girls stepped forward and bowed her head to Miach, her eyes alight with excitement.

"My King", she said, "even in Winter's reign, may the sun forever shine bright." Her hand languorously stroked Miach's. Niall tried to ignore the lusty expression that crossed his King's face as Miach pulled the girl closer and whispered something in her ear.

But by then, it as irrelevant because the dancers were dancing again, this time weaving their way through the group of guards and pulling some to their feet for a dance. Niall was surprised when a small hand was extended in front of him.

Looking up, he noticed that she had long red hair that ran to her waist in curls, and her dainty dress was the earthy color of grass. "Dance with me", she whispered, her voice a crooning bell.

Niall shook his head automatically, but she pulled him to his feet anyway. "One dance will not hurt, will it?"

Niall was about to object, but she pulled him close, maneuvering so that his head resting on her shoulder. It surprised Niall that she would want to dance with him; even though he'd been a part of the Court for centuries now, some fey were still intimidated by his somewhat aloof demeanor. This one, however, was embracing him, her hand running along his back.

"What a strange creature, you are", he whispered into her hair.

"Why strange?" she asked, her voice doubly curious.

Niall didn't answer that. Instead, he spun her around and watched her skirt twirl as she danced. When she was back in his arms, he said, "Because you've chosen me as your partner."

Her eyes glinted with a hint of danger. "What's wrong with choosing you? I've seen you dance. You're a glorious dancer." Then she began to take lead, her footsteps straying from the dance. She interlocked her fingers in his and raised their hands over their heads. For a moment, they kept dancing, their eyes observing one another, their arms raised.

Then she brought their hands back to their sides and took a step forward. Niall's eyes widened as she leaned in closer, her lips not-quite brushing his. When she leaned a bit over his shoulder, toward his ear, she whispered, "And you're delightfully handsome."

Completely bewildered, Niall took a step backward to assess her face. She was completely serious, albeit a bit confused by the expression he was giving her. When Niall's cheeks started to flush, he could barely hide his embarrassment. _She finds me somehow attractive._ He knew that he shouldn't have been so stunned by that fact, being a gancanagh and whatnot, but he was. He'd believed that his scar would be a deterrent. _And I liked it that way._

Because he hadn't responded yet, she stepped forward again, purposely invading his space for the for the sixth time . "Aren't you going to say something?"

He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "What do you want me to say?"

She frowned. "I just complimented you. A kind response would favor well."

Realizing how rude he was being, Niall bowed his head. "I apologize. You were kind to say that."

Just as quickly as she'd frowned, her face was alight with a smile. At that moment, a mischievous expression crossed her face. "I like you, Niall", she drawled, spinning around in his arms so that her back was pressed to his front. She glanced over her shoulder at him, taking in his wide eyes and parted mouth with a smile.

Her predatory stare made him uncomfortable and Niall found himself trying to focus on other things besides the odd girl in his arms. "I would say the same if only I knew what to call you."

"Siren", she said, her voice but a whisper against the sound of the festivities. "My name is Siren." And, it was then, watching her sway against him to the rhythmic music, that Niall took the time to truly observe the strange faery whose openness intrigued him.

She had large, azure eyes that were framed by long lashes and her long body was lush and curvaceous.

Niall slid his hands around her waist as Siren swayed, entranced by her movement. When her elfin face tilted up towards his, her blue eyes magnificent, Niall couldn't look away. She'd enchanted him with her charm. Then in a slow, deliberate motion, she shifted so that her bottom pressed into the sensitive spot between his legs, her body infinitesimally closer to his. He was aroused before it even registered in his mind.

As if reading his body's reaction, her next words that followed were a challenge. "Let us be alone" she said in a voice as lovely as her eyes. When Niall struggled to respond, Siren grabbed his hand and led him away from the jovial faeries and the loud music. The halls were silent as they made their way across the castle, their figures flickers against the stone walls.

Suddenly, Siren stopped at an arch that lead to one of the Court's innumerable gardens, pulling Niall along with her. When they stopped, her lips were immediately on his, her arms around his neck. Niall held her close, savoring the sweet taste of her lips and her breath as she opened her mouth to his. Siren's hands slid from around his neck and found the bottom of his tunic, her fingers feeling along the muscles of his thighs to his chest. She paused when she felt his raised scars but continued to undress with haste, her lips still pressed to his. Niall's hands ran along her inner thigh, bunching her dress up to her waist and exposing her longs legs. Sliding her dress from her shoulders, Niall wrapped her legs around his waist, her back pressed to the stone wall.

Both of their breaths were shallow, and Niall had to ask himself how he found himself ready to take her in such an open place. But there was something about her that made the moment feel right and not crass.

Without anymore thinking involved, Niall entered her, his mouth kissing along the soft of her neck as she bucked beneath him. Siren's moans as he rocked her against him brought his mind to a place of harmony. Hands firm on her thighs, Niall created a slow, steady motion where he filled her again and again, his moans and her own resonating throughout the halls. When a soft, whimpering sound escaped her, Niall kissed her lips so as to comfort her, and when she started to shudder with pleasure, his body did too. When he came, he watched her eyes as he did, wanting to see her sated.

Taking her here may not have been polite, buthe at least wanted to know that she enjoyed the pleasure they just shared.

Afterwards, Niall held her close, both of their breathing slow and shallow.

"I rather enjoyed that", she whispered. "You're a skilled lover."

With a small smile and shaky breaths, Niall said, "So I've been told."

Siren snuggled close to him, and for a time, they sat in the archway, entangled in each other's arms. Niall allowed himself to drift off into sleep holding his new faery lover, and for a time immeasurable, Niall felt euphoria.

Then his eyes shot open and alarm filled him.

The room was getting colder, but not from the snow outside of the arch. Niall could feel the temperature steadily plummeting all around him as his breath came out chilled. He touched his skin and that of Siren who was now roused, the fear on her face evident. A thin layer of frost crept along her cheeks.

Standing up, Niall looked around frantically. The halls were still empty, but this time all of the torchlights were nullified, cold darkness encasing the entire castle.

"What is happening?" Siren shrieked, holding tightly to Niall's hand.

As Niall stepped into the hall, a growing dread came over him. The same thin layer of ice covered the walls. As if to second his thoughts, a distant echo of a scream reverberated throughout the halls. "No", he whispered, his words barely coherent. At that moment, he felt an unknown piece of himself leave.

"What is it?" Siren asked, coming to stand beside him as he stared off at the darkness.

With anguish in his face, Niall turned to her. "It's Miach."


	19. Chapter 19

**So here's the next chapter. It continues exactly where the last left off. I don't want to spoil anything, so I won't say much else but to say: Please REVIEW! I really like knowing how my stories are perceived.**

**Also, I don't own WL. Melissa Marr does. I just love her characters.**

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Niall's dry throat could barely make out words. So for a time, Niall said nothing. Even as Siren frantically called his name, Niall stared into the darkness of the winding halls. He was frozen still, his mind exploring the dreadful possibilities of the moment, unable to ignore the signs of foreboding around him.

"Niall!" Siren yelled, her voice a shrill reverberation in his ear. "Please… answer me!"

She said something else, but he heard none of it. He only felt the cold, bitter air stinging his eyes and face. Numbly, Niall felt his legs moving, and before he knew it, he was racing down the dark halls, following the distant scream's echo that he knew was instinctively Miach's voice.

Siren lagged behind, calling his name and shouting in a panic, her footsteps behind his.

Niall could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, his frozen blood managing to pump as he turned down another corridor. His hand trailed along the stonewalls to find that they were void of any warmth; a haunting sign that the Court of Summer was no longer so.

That only strengthened Niall's fears. With unease trickling into his every movement, Niall continued to run, his legs moving far faster than he thought possible.

When Niall stopped running, he stopped at the large, ornate gold doors of Miach's private chambers. Niall hesitantly reached out to the door handle to discover that it was deathly cold, its chill stinging the warmth of his skin.

Nonetheless, Niall pushed open the frigid doors, the dry ice burning his palms in the process. The sight before him was one he'd wished never to see in all his centuries of living.

A thin layer of snow coated the surfaces of the room; the exotic birds that normally flew throughout could no longer be seen. The plants that grew verdantly from wall-to-wall wore an icy glaze. Icy vines stretched along the chamber walls like claws, skeletal hands waiting to freeze whatever they touched. The chamber floor was thickly coated with snow-white crystals.

Niall also noticed a mangled female form lying prone in the snow, her skin corpse blue. Bits of ice clung to her hair and eyelashes, where frozen blood and tears ran down her face. With sadness he realized that the body was that of the court dancer who'd left the festival with Miach earlier.

And in the center of the barren cold was Miach, the Summer King, lying prostrate in a blanket of white, a pool of blood forming a stained halo around him.

As Niall sank to his knees in front of his King, the words completely vanished from his throat. Siren came rushing behind him, but froze where she stood once she took in the sight.

Niall stared down at his King, his hands shaking. Miach's usually radiant glow was absent; in its place was an eerie pallor that was unlike the Summer King. His coppery hair was a flatter tone, having lost its metallic sheen, and his amber eyes were closed.

But those changes are not what truly disturbed Niall. Blood ran from three wounds in his chest, remnants of ice shards protruding from the flesh.

Were it not for all of the blood, the scene almost looked angelic; with his hair fanning out around him, Miach looked like a sleeping cherub. Even in death, Miach still possessed fey beauty that was truly immortal.

As Niall stared at the wounds, at Miach's collapsed posture, it was made abundantly clear that his King was murdered- and violently so.

"Get the others", Niall told Siren, who was still frozen in place. She nodded numbly, her eyes vacant. Then Niall heard her footsteps echoing back down the halls as she sought out Tavish.

When she was gone, Niall ran his hand along Miach's temple, cradling the dead faery's head with his other. "Miach", he finally whispered, his voice breaking. His thoughts screamed words he was too ashamed to say. _I should have protected you. I should have done something. I should have been better._

_But I hadn't. I'd hidden myself from the only court that showed me affection. And now my King is dead._

By the time Tavish and the other guards arrived, Niall was weeping over the dead Summer King, his eyes aching.

When Tavish and one of the guards placed their hands on his shoulder and steadied him away from the Summer King, Niall's eyes were tear-stained, his body weak.

Tavish closed his eyes when he saw Miach, as if to erase the image from his mind. He, like Niall, was unsuccessful.

With a sorrow Niall couldn't dare match, Tavish said, "I will remember you, Old Friend." He reached out as if he would ouch the Summer King, but retracted his hand. Then he reluctantly told several of the guards to prepare the funeral procession.

Niall could see Tavish's unshed tears, could see the pain in the eldest advisor's face as he stared at the Summer King's form. _As we both did._

Niall approached him, placing a hand on the taller faery's shoulder. "How could this have happened, Tavish? I do not understand."

Tavish glanced at Niall's hand before he coldly said, "Beira. Beira killed him."

When Niall had no response to that, Tavish said, "I warned him to be careful. We both did, Niall. Winter can be just as temperamental as Summer at times; Miach just chose not see it. Love blinded hm."

As Niall stared at Miach's lifeless body, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He too had been blinded by love. His love for Irial stopped him from seeing the obvious signs of deceit and danger that were always lurking just beneath the surface- had he bothered to look. His blindness centuries back hadn't cost him his life, but it had stolen everything from him. _Had Miach loved Beira that much? That he would ignore the signs? That he would eventually die by her hand?_

Just then, a group of sullen Summer faeries entered the room to carry out the body of their fallen king, preparing to clean his wounds for the mourning ceremony.

Tavish took a heavy breath and tugged his braid loose before looking at his King one last time. Had Niall not been watching the faery close enough, he would have missed the tears welling up on Tavish's silver lashes, would have missed them run down Tavish's face as he darted from the room.

When the faeries had gone with both Miach and the girl's bodies, Niall found himself staring at the cold, bleak remnants of what was and wishing for what used to be. For the first time in three centuries, he felt as though he'd lost his place. But this time, without Miach's guidance, he wasn't sure if he'd ever find it again.

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**REVIEW!**


	20. Chapter 20

**_Here's a short chapter that came to mind. It's Irial's POV. Please excuse the brevity, but I would much rather post this and then add the the next chapter later, than leave you all further deprived of this story. :)_**

**_Once again, I don't own WL. Melissa Marr does. Enjoy!_**

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Irial's eyes grew heavy with sleep. It was a sleep he'd not had in many centuries; A peaceful one, one unsullied by nightmares and unanswered questions.

In the centuries since Niall's departure, Irial had been sleeping as only a fretful mortal would, unable to control his thoughts, unable to prepare himself for the nightmarish content they contained. His dreams were often capricious; lengthy one night, yet a mere flash the next. But the disturbing content of his slumber never changed. No matter how long or how briefly he slept, he dreamt of Niall's attack and the events that followed.

Scarcely a night passed when he didn't relive that terrible moment when Niall's piercing cries filled the room, screaming his name, begging for mercy. Nor did a night pass when he woke up sweating, unsteady, and sickened by his own thoughts.

Irial was becoming undone with _knowing_.Knowing what happened, knowing what he was, knowing that he did not stop it.

_What if Niall had not left? Would he have loved me still? Would I still feel this pain?_

So tonight, when his memories didn't plague him, he gratefully accepted his reprieve.

Instead he dreamt joyous fantasy, memories of Niall that were pleasant. He remembered their first nights together, spent in dizzying lust and passion. He remembered the days they simply read literature or danced, when Niall would play the loveliest songs on his vielle as Irial drank wine. The times Irial would run his fingers through Niall's russet-colored hair simply to see the contrast against his own midnight tresses.

For the first time in a long time, Irial felt different; in ways his Court couldn't make him feel.

_The sad thing about dreams is that they're brief fantasies. But nightmares are real._

Irial awoke abruptly, his shadow-dancers hissing around him, patting his arms in a consoling manner. With nearly shaky fingers he touched the moistness of his eyes. His unshed tears made him falter.

He sat up in bed and crossed the foyer to his balcony window, his breaths whispers in the dead silence of the room.

_I would give anything for you to love me again_, he silently willed to Niall. He tried not to dwell on reality, tried not to dwell on the Niall's constant rejection these past centuries.

But even so, Irial was not stupid. He knew as well as any that Niall was hurt, and that hatred stems from such hurt. Niall would never trust him again in all the immortal years they lived.

Yet, despite knowing this, he wanted things to be the same, wanted to see any semblance of the love they once shared in his Gancanagh's eyes.

Irial opened the doors to the balcony, letting in the immense cold of winter. He allowed his bare feet to touch the ice, hoping that it would wake him from his fretful stupor.

For miles he saw a land covered in snow, beautiful in it's barren state. Just then, the wind whipped his hair, the moon overhead casting a cold shadow over his face. In the distance he noticed a white horse-drawn carriage winding its way through the snow, its horses so white that it was almost unnoticeable. A thin layer of frost was forming on the stone where his hands rested.

Suddenly, Gabriel's heavy footsteps could be heard entering his room. Irial didn't take his eyes from the carriage, nor did he feel the cold anymore.

"Irial, the Winter Queen approaches."


	21. Chapter 21

**So here's what you've been waiting for. I've been envisioning it in my head forever now, but it took me a while to actually sit down and write it. I can't say much else, but it takes place right where the last chapter left off. REVIEW please, especially this one, and enjoy! I also don't own Wicked Lovely, but I love to write about its characters. It's Irial's POV.**

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Beira was standing in the parlor room when Irial descended the stairs. She was wearing a long, white cloak that partially shrouded her face in the cold moonlight. It was an unusual look for her, Irial noticed. He also noticed that this time, she had no servants with her; not a Scrimshaw Sister or Bone Girl in sight to prevent her white robes from dragging along the dirty ground.

Beira had come to him, for the first time ever, completely alone. A cold chill crept over him, a precedent of the never-ending winter to come.

Irial took caution as he approached her, his black eyes calculating. The Winter Queen spun around upon hearing his approach, her movements uneasy.

"Irial", she said simply, trying to conceal the shakiness of her voice.

Irial gave her an odd expression, but nodded curtly, his hands curling at his sides. Irial sensed a tangled feeling in her, lying just beneath the surface of her cool demeanor. "Why have you come, Beira? The hour is late."

Beira's delicate, long fingers, which Irial noticed were shaken, pulled back her hood to reveal bloodshot eyes and a face strewn with icy tears.

Irial took in a breath, made uneasy by such a sight. He looked into her ice blue eyes and saw fear, anger, passivity; conflicting emotions that were at odds with the Winter Queen he thought he knew.

"Beira?" Irial reached out to her, his hand touching her shoulder. In doing so, he noticed that she was cradling something beneath her cloak.

"I tried to bring him back", she whispered, "but Death refused me." An icy tear ran down her cheek, and Irial could taste her longing and grief. "And now I must suffer for it."

"What do you mean? You are making little sense, Beira."

Beira ignored him, her expression distant. Wherever she was in her mind, she wash't close. Then her eyes went hard, and all the cruelness she wasn't showing reemerged. Her voice grew low. "You must help me rid myself of this", she hissed, her eyes boring into his. Before Irial could ask her what she meant, Beira stepped closer to him, revealing from her mass of robes the one thing Irial hadn't expected; an infant child.

Irial's eyes went wide and he gasped, his eyes transfixed on the small child. The baby had a mass of illustrious, copper hair that shimmered not unlike Miach's and a complexion of frosty moonlit skin. He also had the most intriguing pair of eyes. They appeared to be shifting between colors; vibrant green in one moment and ice blue in the next. It was unlike anything Irial had ever seen before in all of his millennia of living.

"What have you done?" Irial managed to whisper as he gazed at the child.

Beira's face went hard, her eyes narrowing. "What I had to do, what I should have done long ago." Irial tasted her resentment, longing, and fear as she spoke.

Irial was too shocked to understand what she was saying. "Impossible", he whispered, glancing down at the child again, who was now smiling coyly at him. "Fey don't bear children."

Beira snarled. "I know", she spat, quite disgusted by that revelation. "But yet it's _here_."

Taken aback by the anger in her tone, Irial met her gaze. "It? He is your son, Beira, your heir. You have that which very few of us may ever dream of having."

Beira watched Irial with apt determination, her iridescent eyes shimmering white now. "He is my burden. He will take after his father and vie for my throne. I mustn't allow it."

Irial could barely believe what he was hearing. "You want me to help you murder your child, your own flesh-and-blood?"

Beira held the child beneath her robes again, shrouding him from Irial's sight. "Spare me your pity, Dark King. I came here not for lecture."

Irial's jaw tightened, his eyes aptly curious. "What would Miach have of you doing this in secret, without him knowing?"

Beira sneered, but he saw the pain in her eyes she tried so hard to hide, could hear the heartbreak in her voice. "Miach will have nothing of my affairs, Darling. Not anymore. His death has assured his silence."

Irial's mouth parted as he realized what Beira was saying. He stared at her, the Winter Queen, truly cold in every sense of the word. He swallowed back the pain he felt in his chest in knowing that his friend was no longer living, but he refused to shed tears in her presence. "Do you understand what you've done?" Irial ground out, roughly grabbing her arm. "The balance is forever changed."

She snatched her arm away from him and the tone of her voice was far crueler than his court had ever been. "Sometimes death is necessary. A Queen must not let affection dictate her actions."

When Irial was silent, she said, "I've come to summon your assistance. I do not wish the boy dead. I wish him bound, partially stripped of his birthright. For centuries he must search for the mortal who holds the other half of Summer. It should be enough time for me to fully come into power."

Irial watched her with an equally calculating gaze. "And if I choose to bind him, what is it that you can offer me or my Court?  
Beira grinned, a cold smile that was not meant to reassure. "Then the mortal and fey realms shall suffer under my hand; and the Dark Court shall thrive as they've never before."

Irial stared at Beira for a long while. Unlike Miach, whom she killed, Beira was no ally to him, nor was she a friend. He knew not to trust her, knew that a woman so cruel as to rashly murder the father of her child- _her beloved_- and think so little about the consequences could surely be no true ally. And he pitied a woman who would subject her newborn child to centuries of cruelty and subjugation for the sake of power.

There were many reasons Irial had to not trust Beira. She disgusted him with the level of evil she possessed. Yet, despite these things, Irial knew above all else Beira would be the key to her own destruction if he agreed to her little game. He knew that her selfish nature would one day result in her certain demise when she tried to tamper with the rules of the curse he would set into existence.

He also knew that the curse would keep his Court strong for many centuries until the curse was broken.

In that span of time, Irial found himself remembering his own concern for the unhealthiness of Miach's relationship with Beira. Irial had watched Bannanach's manipulation, saw how she managed to turn both of them against each other. He remembered how he warned Miach countless times that two conflicting elements could never remain at peace with one another, that eventually, one would fall. _It saddens me that you've fallen, My Friend. _With Bannanach's whisperings of deceit and mistrust being planted in their heads, they never stood a chance.

Irial glanced at Beira, who's obdurate face remained as still as stone as she waited. Weighing all of his options, Irial realized that he needed to be strong for his people, needed to ensure their safety above all else, even if it meant hurting Miach's son.

_Forgive me, Dear Friend._

Irial knew that Kings made difficult decisions; he'd been living with the consequences of his for centuries now. But his people came first, and nothing would change that.

So with a nod, he told Beira, "I accept". And they swore to the curse that would forever seal the young king's fate, Irial giving up a piece of himself, and Beira doing the same. Their essences created a tie that would dictate the boy's life for centuries, a curse whose rules were so severe and cruel that they left no room for compromise. In those moments as Irial felt his magic at work, he thought only about how it would help his Court, trying not to dwell on known the importance it would have in shaping the fey world. And afterwards, when Beira left with the child and Irial was all alone to reflect on his deeds, he could almost taste regret.


	22. Chapter 22

So here's next chapter. It's a short bit about Niall; it's Niall's POV. I won't say much else to avoid spoilers. So enjoy! and please **REVIEW!**

I don't own WL, Melissa Marr does.

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Niall could hear his breaths in the agonizing silence, his tender skin aching with a fever that only _he_ could quench. Darkness consumed him but for the steady flame of the candles displaced around the dim room, their glow flickering like Niall's undulating body. Niall's lips quivered as _he_ touched him, his body growing heated from the touch he could feel but not see. As Niall moaned, the dark-haired man's sinful mouth found his own, his long fingers slowly pleasuring Niall in ways his naïve mind could not have imagined.

Despite the dim candlelight, Niall could make out the man's Grecian face; his features far too beautiful to be truly earthly, despite being fey. His raven hair brushed Niall's bare shoulders in the wake of his full mouth, leaving Niall both awed and alarmed by the sensation. Niall ran his hands along his strong back, exploring the lines of his powerful form; traced the tattoos he knew lingered over his hips and shoulders.

The scarce candlelight illuminated his abyss-like eyes, casting an eerie reflection that both mesmerized and frightened Niall. This, man, he was beautiful in his deadliness; a rare beast in his valor, but a predator within. More dangerous than anything Niall had ever met.

Yet despite this, Niall felt only his sweetness as he touched him now, not a semblance of cruelty or sadism. Niall had felt no pleasure like this before, not even in his wildest dreams. Never before had he felt this touch, these kisses, this union. And union it was indeed.

It was evident in the passionate tangle in which their mouths met, the intertwining of their fingers as Niall gazed upon his hard body with heavily lidded eyes, in the way Niall could taste his intoxicating sweat, feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the heat of his beating heart. Feel the sharp pain as he tugged Niall's hair.

It was all perfection.

Niall's body undulated in a way that met his in a rhythm, the motion of their bodies not separate entities, but one as _he_ struck Niall again and again. The slick friction causing them both to utter sounds of sheer pleasure. For hours, they explored one another, complete in their togetherness.

Afterwards the man whispered foreign words to Niall in the Old Language as Niall drifted off into sleep, wrapped in his ethereal embrace. Words he had hoped Niall wouldn't hear. Words that Niall, with all his young naïveté, understood plainly:

"I will love you always, darling, for you are mine."

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Niall awoke suddenly in bed, his eyes burning red with tears; whether from the dream or Miach's recent death he did not know. Either way, the pain he felt was unbearable. Miach was buried hours ago, and ever since, that feeling of emptiness had yet to pass him by. He had a feeling that it would never truly pass.

But the dream, the dream had resurfaced painfully sweet memories of the one man he tried hardest to forget. Irial's impact on Niall's life was disheartening in more ways than one. It reminded him of what could have been. What should have been. Reminded him of how synched they once were. Of how innocent he was. But that wasn't what hurt most of all. It was the sheer fact that Irial held a grip on his thoughts, his soul, his heart; a tie Niall deemed almost impossible to sever- even now.

Irial was his first true lover, and that would never change, despite Niall's hatred for him now. _Perhaps that is why he is under my skin so often. _Irial knew him better than anyone he had met, which in itself is frightening.

Niall rubbed his eyes. Fixed his nightshirt. Checked his pulse. To have such thoughts was unhealthy, and Niall knew it, yet his mind had been conjuring these types of dreams for some years now, especially when he was troubled.

This disturbed Niall more than anything else because when he thought too long about it, when old memories were forced to reemerge to the forefront of his psyche, he felt trapped in a game or sorts. A game in which he could never be victor. And that saddened him most of all.

With a weary sigh, Niall tried to return to sleep and was quite relieved when he did not dream of his old King. He welcomed the bleak darkness that appeared before his lids and slept as peacefully as he was able. He would much rather have no dreams at all than be perturbed by realities he could not control.

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	23. Chapter 23

_**Hey everyone! So finally, here's chapter 23! It's significantly longer than the last, so that's good. It's also Niall's POV and continues where the last left off. And sorry for the wait, guys. I got writer's block for a sec. Please REVIEW! I'd love to know how this one is received.**_

_**I own nothing. The fab Melissa Marr does.**_

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Waking without a king was something Niall's mind had a hard time accepting. A monarch's well-being was essential to the longevity of his court, and as of late, the Court of Summer was in turmoil. Though there was no physical catastrophe Niall could speak of; no ashes, nor fire, nor blood curdling screams, the Summer Court was still in ruin. Summer girls no longer sang as joyously. They no longer danced as freely. And neither did anyone else. The stench of pain and longing fumigated the halls, the death knoll of the recent fey King's demise still fresh in the ears of his Court.

And despite how much they tried to hide it behind faux smiles and hugs, Niall knew that the Court was suffering. They'd lost a part of themselves, a part of their purpose now that Miach was gone. The effect of it all was infinitesimal.

Especially to Niall.

Miach had not only been Niall's king, as with so many other fey. The Summer faery was his savior, his beacon of hope, his graft that kept him rooted to the purity and truthfulness he'd so passionately sought. He'd given him shelter, respect, and most importantly a life to live for.

_Yet that was all gone now, wasn't it?_

What had Niall left? His dignity? His pride?

Without Miach, Niall felt untethered and distanced, no longer of the court he'd promised himself to.

The face Niall saw in the mirror was not his, but a face from his past; a faery who was impure, unclean, darkened by his own naïveté, left to bear horrid scars.

_When all I know is gone, what do I have left?_

Niall abruptly stopped those thoughts, seeing as they would only serve to darken his path.

Stepping out of bed, Niall got dressed and set off to find Tavish. Surely, he hoped, the elder faery could help him keep his wits. 'Twould be a crying shame if his thoughts ventured further, and at this point, all Niall truly needed was guidance.

Upon wandering the now desolate halls of the Summer Palace, Niall found Tavish pouring over books in the overlarge study, his shoulders hunched as he read, his long, silver tresses acting as veil for his regal face.

Niall approached open doors cautiously, not wishing to disturb him overmuch. He too understood how it felt to be startled when in a tranquil state of mind.

When he stopped before the faery, Tavish's head turned away from his book, his dark eyes making contact with Niall ever so slowly. The anguish in those deep, ancient eyes almost made Niall break.

But he didn't. He couldn't. He simply held the stare long enough to show Tavish that he too was hurting. In more ways than one. _That was why I came._

"Niall", Tavish said in a voice that was far too hoarse. "What brings you here?"

Niall took a steadying breath, his throat dry as he tried to speak. "I… I need you."

Tavish swallowed as he sat up straighter in the recliner, his fingers intertwining. "Whatever for?"

Watching the ease with which the faery composed himself for conversation, putting aside his anguish and torment, Niall felt even more guilty about what he was going to do. As Niall's eyes misted, he silently cursed himself.

"He's gone", Niall heard himself say in a voice that quivered. "He's gone and I am in pain. I know not what to feel, I know not what to do. And I fear… what I mayhap will do if this turmoil in me is not quelled."

When he was done, Niall knew not what to expect. Scorn. insensitivity. Perhaps even pity.

Instead he was presented with sympathy and warmth beyond his imagination. Tavish met his gaze, not with mocking eyes, but with kindness and sincerity.

"Niall", he said clearly, even though his own voice wavered. "We all must learn come to part with our beloved Miach, even though it pains us. He was a noble, beautiful King. And we all loved him, despite his faults." Then he paused, his eyes forever earnest. "Never feel ashamed of the way you feel about him, Niall. He was yours as much as ours."

The emotions that coursed through Niall in that moment were ones he'd dare not name. Partly because he was too undone to truly feel them. Despite his terse exterior, the Summer faery was noble in ways Niall could never have imagined.

Without thinking on it much, Niall bent down and embraced Tavish, allowing the stinging of loss to ride over them both.

Afterward, feeling slightly embarrassed for the brashness of his actions, Niall apologized- only to be stopped by Tavish with a shake of the head.

"There is no need for apology", the reclining faery said with a sageness that made Niall listen. "We all come undone in times of need. Even the most powerful of fey must confide in someone."

Staring at the faery before him, Niall was overwhelmed with respect, his senses hyperaware as a revelation struck him. This was his Court now, as it had been for three centuries, and the faeries in it were all equally his to protect as they were Tavish's. The familial bond he'd sought had been with him all along, watching over him, sheltering him.

As Tavish had just done. As Miach had always done.

With strength returning to his voice Niall said, "I truly understand why Miach was fond of you, Tavish. You are eternally kind."

At that, Miach's eldest advisor smiled, his beautiful face alight with humility despite his still-evident grief. "I appreciate your words, Niall. Truly."

Niall quietly glowed in the aftermath, feeling the power of the words exchanged between them. Then as the silence of their newfound understanding wafted on, his advisor's smile slowly dissipated, Tavish's eyes darkening to a tone that reminded him far too much of the Dark King's abyss-like orbs. "Although I do fear that which I must inform you of."

Niall listened curiously on, his thoughts muddled, a lump forming in his throat. He dreaded what would be said next.

"The Winter Queen is with child. The progeny of both she and the late Summer King."

Upon hearing that, Niall's eyes widened. Fey births were a rarity among the race. And never before had two monarchs of opposing courts ever bore children. Let alone Winter and Summer. _How does the child fare? _Niall wondered. _Surely Beira is not so callous to murder her own child?_

"The child is Miach's only heir to the throne", Tavish announced. "Although I fear its conditions under the hands of the Beira's cruelty. A twisted game of sorts has been prepared for its future; as of now he is stripped of his birthright until he can find the missing piece of Summer in a mortal who carries it within her." Tavish shook his head, the frustration evident in his strangled voice. "This can take centuries, Niall. Centuries before we have a true King of Summer to lead us."

To that, Niall had no sure response. Through the tide of worry and fear that racked him, he managed to ask, "But how was the curse made manifest? As regent of the Winter Court, Beira has no way of binding the boy-king. Only the High Queen, Sorcha is capable of such a power."

"As is the Dark King", Tavish admitted, a frown evident on his mouth.

The implications of such a taciturn statement left Niall speechless. Irial had been a part of this. He'd willingly helped Beira bind her own child- _our King _- for his own perverse measures. Irial, who, as Niall recalled, was friends with Miach as he was with no other monarch. Irial's change in loyalty unsettled Niall and his newly found alliance with the Winter Queen absolutely puzzled him. What would he attain from it?

Niall had known that Irial was selfish and cruel, a King capable of unspeakable horrors and intense moods, but the motivation behind his former King's actions still bewildered him. _Is Irial that uncaring? Truly that spiteful?_

As Niall looked to Tavish, seemingly for answers, the faery continued. "That is why I was in the study; searching for answers in as many ways I can. Old lore. Spellbooks. Trying to find a way to break the curse. Of late, I've been unsuccessful."

Then, with passion in his being, Tavish said, "The boy deserves to be free, Niall."

With that, Niall could not argue. "He will be", he said, placing a hand on Tavish's shoulder. "We will be there when the time comes for him to regain his throne. As we were for Miach. Always."

And upon seeing the blatant hope and pride in his advisor's eyes, Niall believed his own words.

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	24. Chapter 24

**So here's the new chapter! It's Irial's POV and it begins on a dark note. The chapter is brief, but I wanted very much to write it. There's also another thing; the story is close to being finished. There will probably be only a few (1-2) chapters left of Darkest Demise. But don't fret, because I (hopefully) have some other things planned too, so we'll see how those go. Well, that's about it! Please review this chapter, seeing as it was a bit harder for me to write. Thanks!**

**I own nothing! Melissa Marr does. I just write fanfic.**

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A bitter cold races through his veins, a precedent to the aching dread in his throat. Eyes blacker than ash watch from the distance, beholding the sickening sights before them. Sin is the coin. Lust suffocates the air. A sea of pulsating bodies billows before him, their lascivious sounds screaming with the pain of stolen virtue, of lost minds and condemned souls, creating the image of a moving tide.

A dais appears, resting high above the sea of demons. And on it Irial watches the sinister affairs take place. Darkness falls swiftly over all, cocooning Irial in its embrace. The shadowed, nude figures below him are animal in their instincts, the voices filling the room, their dark eyes vacant as they take with need.

He feels them all. Pain. Lust. Desire. Yet as he sits in the darkness, expecting a completeness to wash over him in the wake of their emotions, all he feels is coldness arising in his chest.

Then suddenly all goes quiet and the sea of fey and mortals parts before him.

A lone figure stands in the crowd, his wide, fearful brown eyes difficult to watch as he beholds the disturbing scene before him. He holds himself with a strength that is quickly waning, his lips quivering, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Smeared blood stains his bruised lips and the thin shirt that clings to his chest. His long mahogany tresses look damp and unkempt.

And as the boy's eyes meet Irial's, the shame and disappointment in them makes Irial want to run. But he doesn't. Nor does he console or dole out sympathy to the frightened, injured faery. Instead, Irial says words that are painful to speak aloud, feeling too hurt and betrayed to think rationally. Feeling too angry to protect the only faery that ever mattered to him. And feeling too selfish to let him go.

And when the boy pleads with him with desperation in his voice, Irial coldly turns him away, leaving him to suffer alone in the darkness. Leaving him to face demons that would steal away his light.

Irial closes his eyes as the wicked pool of laughter reaches his ears, as the boy's tormented screams fill the room over the sinister howling, but the coldness in his heart has yet to fade. The darkness becomes chokingly thick. Irial fights to keep his eyes shut, to erase the image of the boy from his mind.

The fresh smell of tears burns his nose. The sickly-sweet musk of bodies and of fresh blood overpowers his senses. The sound of soft crying assaults him.

Dark tears threaten to escape his eyes as the boy cries his name.

Then, as if nothing had transpired, the sounds stop all at once. And when Irial opens his eyes he finds himself in the darkness still, feeling more like a coward than a Dark King.

In the center of the room lay the boy: bare, broken and battered, his logy, unmoving eyes a testament to his shattered self. His tears were all but dried, wasted like his screams.

And in those moments of pain and anguish, Irial found himself crying, regretting what he'd allowed to happen.

"Forgive me", he cried, unable to stop his flow of tears, reaching for the boy with empty hands.

To that, Irial received no answer.

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Irial awoke in pain, his hands curled into fists, his eyes heavy with sorrow. Black tears ran from his eyes and down his chin. The nightmare had struck him again, leaving him completely exposed. No matter how recent or old, Irial's reoccurring nightmares about Niall were leaving him with a sense of complete and utter loss. And loads of self-loathing.

It had been over three centuries since Irial last saw his Gancanagh, and Irial could never forget the frightening depression Niall evinced ever since Irial had allowed him to be hurt. Irial doubted that sadness would ever leave Niall, were he being honest.

Some things were simply unforgiveable. His dreams made him see that now; as did Niall's jarring letter centuries back.

_But_, Irial decided, _I won't allow the past or my dreams to control my life. I am the Dark King, and my Court must come first. _His worries over Niall were a hindrance, especially when Niall had made it very clear that they were both too different to have an actual relationship.

Sitting up in bed, Irial wiped the tears from his eyes and stared out at the sky. The sun was just setting beneath the clouds, casting an orange glow that lit up the encroaching darkness from miles away. Upon watching the soft light emanating from the sun, Irial was reminded that Niall's favorite part of the day was when the sun sank beneath the horizon.

Steering his thoughts away from the Summer faery, Irial took a breath and pulled his robes closer to his body. _My Court must always come first._

Yet staring off into the setting sun, Irial pitied that what he'd spoken was only half true.


	25. Chapter 25

**So hey everyone! I know I have't updated in like, forever- and I'm truly sorry about that. So I made it up to you with a long chapter. Keep in mind that this is probably going to be one of the LAST chapters for Darkest Demise. It saddens me that the story's coming to a close, but it was bound to happen, I suppose. But don't fret, because I've gotten an idea to write a story about Irial and Niall pre- Darkest Demise, when Niall first met Irial. It's still up in the air, but who knows. Also, I'll be continuing Last Moments as well. Thanks, readership! And please, I put a lot of time into this chapter, so I'd appreciate if you _REVIEWED_! Thanks!**

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Niall had been leaving his chambers that night when he heard the sounds of anxious voices in the foyer. They both sounded familiar, but one of them sent chills through him, made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Creeping quietly from his room, Niall rounded the corner, hoping to get a glimpse of the heated discussion.

Upon closer inspection, Niall could make out Tavish's low baritone amongst the speech. His words were belligerent and unwavering, resilient like the faery himself.

"Why have you come here?" he asked. "Truly. I do not wish to hear your schemes. And neither would, Miach, were he still present."

And the second voice… the second voice had Niall holding his breath, barely able to utter a sound. He swallowed hard.

_Irial._

"Spare me your questions, Tavish. You know why I am here. I've told you well enough. Now, where is Niall?"

Niall breathing grew labored, his thoughts incoherent. A cold sweat broke out over him.

Meanwhile, Tavish was saying, "I doubt he wants to see you now. If at all."

"Well then, we won't know until you get him."

"You will not subjugate me in my own court, Dark King. Miach may have allowed your presence, but I won't."

Irial let out a resounding chuckle, his delicious laughter filling the foyer walls with honey. "Your disapproval behooves me, Tavish. I wish you no ill will at the moment, despite your empty threats. I simply want to speak to the boy."

Tavish opened his mouth to object, but Niall was already stepping out from behind the wall, within full view of both faeries.

He didn't speak. Didn't move. All he could feel were Irial's eyes roaming his rigid body, boring into Niall's face as he glanced at Tavish. His throat was dry when he said, "It's alright, Tavish. I'll see to him."

Tavish looked once to Irial and then to Niall, his eyes imploring. But then Niall gave him a nod of reassurance and Tavish slowly left the room, glaring at Irial the entire time.

When the two of them were left completely alone, Niall felt his stomach drop. He never thought he'd see Irial again- not this soon. And truthfully, he never quite knew what he'd do if he ever saw him again. Often, he'd fantasized about hitting him, hurting him, livid with anger. Other times he'd imagined he'd be too emotionally overwhelmed to speak. But now, with the Dark King standing mere feet away, Niall had no reaction.

So Irial spoke first. "I'm glad to see you again, Gancanagh, despite our parting on most deplorable of terms."

Niall swallowed, unable to make a coherent answer. Then he said, "Why are you here?"

Irial tilted his head to the side, his full lips pursing. "To see you, of course."

Niall shook his head. "Why are you really here? No falsities."

Irial's black stare narrowed. "Must I be here for another reason, Niall? Some grand scheme?"

"No", Niall admitted. "But why would you care to see me?"

Irial's tone was sharp when he said, "I haven't seen you in over three centuries. I think that's reason enough."

"But I made it very clear that I didn't want to see you", Niall ground out, barely able to conceal the fear and anger in his voice. "In the letters. "

Irial wore a devious expression, mouth half-smirked, his arms folded across the breadth of his chest. "That's never stopped me before, Gancanagh. Or you, for that matter."

"_Before_ was long ago, Irial. Before you made it very clear what your true sentiments were, how _different_ we both are."

As Niall said the words, Irial's eyes narrowed, all playfulness gone from his face. "I see you've chosen your side, boy."

"And so did you, when you cursed my king."

Irial sneered, malice lighting his mischievous eyes at the mentioning that he was no longer Niall's king. "Your king? Need you be reminded that he's but a babe?"

"For now", Niall said. "But soon he will grow older. And he_ will_ be strong enough to lead this court properly." Niall lifted his chin, his eyes blazing. "Strong enough to defeat you, even."

"Is that so?" Irial took a step closer to Niall, the darkness radiating from him in waves. Niall fought the urge to take a step back as Irial got too close for his liking, the Dark King's lips inches from his own. "Your convictions for the Kingling are unsettling, Gancanagh. As well as naïve."

Then Irial's cruel, black eyes raked up Niall's body as if Niall weren't fully clothed: taking in the strong muscle, the taut skin. The numerous scars hidden beneath his shirt. The slight tremble of his lower lip as the Dark King assessed him so severely. And just when Niall felt completely exposed, open for all to see, Irial said, "Although were always quite naïve. Weren't you, boy?"

Niall's jaw tightened. But the trembling of his lip was hard to ignore. Irial had a way of stripping him raw, of undoing the resonating calm he'd convinced himself was true of the Summer Court. And as the Dark King stood before him, domineering and haughty, Niall felt like the little boy he had been when they'd first met. The one who didn't know how to set himself free. The one who feared the darkness, but was forever intrigued by its danger. The one who had allowed one man to get close enough to him to break his heart.

He felt small. So very, very small.

"Do you enjoy this?" Niall asked weakly, the strength in his voice fleeting.

Irial glared. "Enjoy what?"

"Watching me wither beneath you. Isn't that why you came?" Before Irial could object, Niall said, "You need not reply. It's evident you take pleasure in watching me suffer."

Irial's black gaze was unwavering, his brows low. "Suffer?" he scoffed. "I've been suffering for centuries, Niall. Making decisions your precious 'King' would never dare to."

Niall's glower was one of pure anger. "Like cursing Miach's unborn son, an innocent babe, so that you-"

Irial waved away Niall's words with his hand. "You know nothing regarding the state of affairs, Gancanagh. You know only what your misguided people tell you." He stared directly at Niall as he said, "And they know so little."

Abruptly, he turned away from Niall, his profile hidden from full view, his black hair falling in waves down his back. "Miach was a great man", he mused. "I will not deny him that right. His soul was passionate and enamoring to all who bore witness. Yet, he failed to make proper decisions, failed to see the beauty and light of his court for the darkness it withheld. And now, he is gone." Irial met Niall's tense gaze. "I will not follow in Miach's glorious footsteps, Gancanagh. Unlike him, I cannot afford to leave my Court kingless in my wake."

"And if that means cursing your beloved 'Kingling', then so be it."

A silence drafted on, and Niall stared at Irial's unwavering frame with horror. "How can you be so cruel?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You befriended Miach, shared moments together. I saw it."

Irial's dull, black stare was all for Niall as a disturbing grin etched its way across his beautiful face. "Yet, therein lies the irony, Gancanagh. Fey cannot be trusted." The blunt coldness of his voice chilled the room.

_Fey cannot be trusted._ It was the same thing Irial had told Niall before he ran away from the Dark Court. The same words that had had Niall blaming himself for what happened to him on that dark night so many centuries ago. They were words full of accusation, full of truth, full of everything that made Niall sick with self-loathing. And alas, Irial was standing there, basking in the glory that was self-importance as Niall was slowing shrinking away, on the cusp of breaking down completely.

With pain lacing his tone, Niall said, "You're the most heartless person I've ever met."

Momentarily, Irial's expression faltered. He looked almost looked wounded by the truth in Niall's harsh words. But then the same demonic smile found its way onto his face, as if erasing that worry.

"Hopefully that'll change", he spat, his mouth a scowl, his black eyes flashing.

Niall ignored that, and instead shook his head. "Miach deserved none of this. Not death. Not betrayal. Certainly not your wayward logic regarding friendship."

Irial barked out a laugh, his sensuous voice even colder than before. "Speak not about betrayal, my darling _Gancnagh_. Lest we forget how you got here in the first place."

Niall glowered at Irial's accusatory tone. "I haven't betrayed anyone. Certainly not my King."

"Which one?" Irial ground out, his mouth a hard line.

"I only have one King", Niall growled, getting pointedly in Irial's face. "And he's gone, no thanks to your schemes."

"I suggest you watch your tone, boy", Irial bit out. "You wouldn't want to do something you might regret."

A silence wafted on in which neither faery said a word. All was silent but for their labored breathing as they observed one another. Then, after glaring at Irial's abyss-like eyes for another moment, Niall repeated, "Why are you here?"

This time, Irial was out of retorts. His cold expression become oddly softened. "To offer you a proposal. To ask that you-"

"I'm not going back", Niall announced, despite the bemused look on Irial's face. "Not back to you, or to your court."

For a moment, Irial's throat grasped for words, but nothing came out. Then he said, "What is there left for you here? Your king is dead, your court in disarray. You don't belong here, Niall."

Niall's impassioned eyes said it all. His voice loudened, the anger in it barely disguised. "Where do I belong then? With you? With the monsters you summoned to hurt me?"

Irial's lip tightened, his pale face a series of hard lines. To that, Irial had no response. For the first time Niall since had ever met him, Irial seemed truly at a loss for words.

The bleakness of Irial's expression, combined with the irrationality the Dark King was spewing got Niall even more upset. His brown eyes blazed with fear and anger, his lower lip quivering against his will. "Damn it, Iri", he cried. "Did you honestly expect me to return to a court that discarded me, that destroyed everything-"

When Irial spoke, his words came out in a hard rush, the words sounding broken and untried. "I'm not quite sure what I expected, Niall. But it wasn't this. I never wanted _this_."

As Niall stared into Irial's dark, blazing eyes, he saw a raw pain in them that forced him to look away. Pain that was hiding just beneath the surface of his cold, cruel words, behind his dominant image of confidence and self-control. In them, Niall saw a semblance of disappointment and regret, a dying hope for what no longer could be between the two of them. In that moment, an unspoken truth was said, and Niall hated to hear it.

Irial still wished that things had truly ended differently between them, despite his scorn for Niall's new court. Despite his conniving ways and cruel demeanor.

For a time unmeasured, the two stood there, faery to faery, not King to subject, left with sparse words between them. And both acknowledged that nothing could be said to undo the pain and heartache they'd caused one another. And no one word could mend what was left of their tattered souls. Not now. Not in centuries to come. Instead, they accepted the moment as a sort of goodbye. A farewell without a promise.

Niall was the first to speak.

"Then why did this happen?" Niall whispered, almost inaudibly, breaking the silence.

For that, Irial had no answer. But Niall didn't expect him to. The dark acknowledgment in his eyes was more than enough for both of them.

Instead, Irial turned his back to Niall and resumed walking in the path he had come, his midnight hair and robes flowing gracefully behind his gait. Niall tried to etch every detail of the Dark King into his memory. His midnight hair. His fair, luminescent skin. The swelling sadness in his cold, black eyes as he departed.

Then Irial stopped, lifting his chin skywards, as if he could see the stars through the domed ceiling of the study. When he spoke, his words were but a whisper, but Niall heard them anyway.

"Fate had other plans for us, Love."

Niall thought to say something. Anything. But he knew words were not what was keeping them apart.

Instead, he watched the Dark King step out into the cold night air, watched the shadows cling to his skin, making amorphous shapes in his wake.

Watched him leave, dark and weary, as if he'd never even come.


	26. Chapter 26

**So hey, guys! This is the LAST chapter of Darkest Demise. I really hope you've enjoyed the story up until now. It's been an awesome journey for me as a writer. It's also hard to say goodbye to something one holds so dear, but it must be done. Nevertheless, enjoy this chapter. And please REVIEW. I'd like to know how it's been ****received. Also, I have other ideas about Iri and Niall in the works too, so don't fret.**

**Thanks again to all of the readership and reviewers who made this process super amazing! I love you guys! ^_^**

* * *

Niall knew that was the last time he would speak to Irial for many centuries to come. The last time he will have spoken to him about the pains of their relationship, the last time he will have seen that cruel smirk on his face.

After Irial had left him on that dark, dreary night, Niall had gone back to his chambers, alone, left to his own thoughts. His mind was muddled, his emotions askew.

And in his room, where no one could see or judge him for his misdeeds, Niall sat and wept. Long, undeterred sobs that shook him, that left his eyes red and overtook any rational thought. A new pain was breaking over him every minute, swallowing him whole.

What for? He did not know. He had accepted Irial's leaving, hadn't he? He'd watched that dark, imposing figure drift off into the night without so much as a goodbye. Yet, were that the case, why did he feel so empty inside? Why was he weeping bitter tears over a man who'd ruined the very heart of his life, who'd given him more bad to remember than good? Who'd taken his virtue- what was left of it- and claimed it for himself?

Sitting alone and left with his unanswered questions, Niall was made undone. He should hate Irial to an obscene amount. _A part of me does._

But for a reason he couldn't fathom, he still cared. He cared whether or not a pack of wolves attacked the Dark King on his departure home, cared if Irial was left unharmed and unscathed in the internim.

Why?

That, Niall did not know. And that vacuous sentiment was slowly driving him mad.

The tears fell hard, harder than Niall expected. And the pain hurt more too. This goodbye was different than the one three centuries ago, when Niall had run away from the Court of Nightmares. No. This time, there was no urgent desire to flee, no gut-wrenching alarm sounding off in his head as his feet beat ground, as he got further away from the dark citadel. Instead, Niall felt a stifling agony, the kind that grabbed him by the throat and smothered him, told him he was worthy of being punished. Shame and fear overwhelmed him as he remembered Irial's departure, as he blamed himself for everything. The feelings he felt in that instant were too strong to be fully described.

But he wept all the same.

It was those fonder times that undid him. Times when Irial laughed into his hair, his arms wrapped around him, lips curled into a silent promise. When Niall had been caressed by Irial's too gentle fingers, undressed by them, made feverish by them. It was those times when Niall cried into Irial's chest and was comforted with warm kisses; not turned away with cruelty. When the Dark King hummed him a tune as lovely as any angel's that made him sleep peacefully in his arms.

Yes, love had overtaken them both back then, and at the time, it had been stronger than any ill feelings either one could muster.

_But all fairytales come to an end_, Niall thought. _And each one is darkened by evil secrets._

With tearful eyes and a shaky disposition, Niall stood up and walked to the window. His reflection was skewed by the cool layer of hoar frost that covered the glass, but a part of him did not mind. He imagined he looked quite manic from all of the crying he'd done.

With trepidation, Niall raised his hand, allowing his fingertip to brush the frosted glass. The cold pane was a welcome reprieve for his aching skin as he traced with his forefinger. Thoughts swirled through his head, breaking him and making him whole again.

Overcome with grief and longing, Niall had no way of predicting what would follow next, no way of foreseeing the heart of his melancholy depicted on the icy pane. His own fear and sadness painted an image far too clear for him to miss.

Yet, as he removed his finger, acknowledging what he'd done, the reality of it shook him infinitesimally. Angry with himself and speechless, Niall swiped at the glass, forever erasing what he'd seen, forever closing himself off from the part of his mind he feared most.

And as he left his room, slamming the door behind him, the words, "I love you" were etched forever into his mind, even as they no longer painted the cool glass where he'd written them.

* * *

Irial was world's away. From his Gancanagh. From his court. From everything he knew. He was a shadow, a darkness he couldn't name. No longer was he the King Of Nightmares.

_I am hardly a king_, he thought. _I am the basest, darkest sentiment that exists._

As Irial stared of into a blackness even he couldn't fathom, his black, tired eyes shimmered with tears.

On the tower where he sat, he could sense them all. His fey. The Hunt. Watching him cautiously from the shadows, but not speaking a word. They knew better than to attempt discourse with him. Not now.

_Not whole now._

Instead, green eyes tracked his movements as he leaned against a stone column on the highest bell tower, looking over the blackened, slumbering village below. Small lanterns lit sunkissed paths in the eminent darkness, as if some were not quite ready to succumb the dark. But otherwise, the only lights were the scarce stars and the violet moon overhead, casting a hard white light over his blank features.

He'd always wondered where he'd go when he was truly distraught, truly void of reason. He found it no surprise that he'd chosen one of Niall's favorite places to resolve his grief. The bell tower had been where Niall spent his time studying and reading, hiding beneath the gargantuan bell like a hermit, enjoying the peaceful solitude. And when he'd become comfortable enough, he'd invited Irial to enjoy the beauty of the tower with him. And that night they'd read and talked and made love beneath the sterling stars.

Irial remembered the thickness of Niall's hair as he touched him, the freshness of the night air as they both inhaled it, the feel of Niall's skin against his leathered wingtips as they embraced him. And their laughter! Oh, how they'd laughed. How free and resounding their voices had been, so unlike the forced dialogues they shared now.

The memories made Irial hurt more than anything. Closing his eyes, he tried to defer them, put them in a less vital place in his psyche.

He failed.

Instead, he found himself holding back tears and condemning himself to several shades of hell.

Why had he failed Niall? Why had he failed himself? His people?

_Why did this happen_? He heard Niall's lovely voice whisper.

When asked, he'd blamed it on fate, but Irial had really known why. The answer was just too heart-wrenching to admit.

_Because I am a coward. Because I am hollow. Because I am selfish. Because I know nothing but betrayal. Because I do not deserve love. Because I do not deserve you. Because I am as broken as the toys I abandon._

Abruptly, Irial stopped the collision of panic and emptiness his mind was headed towards. He couldn't dwell on Niall anymore. Never again. For if he did, he'd certainly go mad with regret. There was no way for him to make good all of the wrong he'd committed. No way to call Niall back into his arms without being reminded of the pain and heartache he'd subjected him to.

Irial raised his face to the moon, hoping, if by some vain thread, that he'd find the answers he sought. But the moon was in no better mood than he, and it had seen all the evils he'd done. So he would seldom find sympathy and comfort in the face of hard stone. Only pity and haughtiness.

With a dejected sigh, Irial allowed the tears to fall, allowed the moon to mock him from its high perch overhead. He embraced the ridicule, embraced the hard, mocking eyes of the Hunt that watched him, that viewed him weak. And as hot sobs formed in his throat, making him choke on his tears, Irial imagined he was crying, not out of pain, but out of joy. Pretended that he hadn't seen the fear and anger in his Gancanagh's eyes, but warm excitement instead.

Letting his head fall back against the icy stone, he shivered, enjoying the cold on his bare skin, grounding him to reality.

_Niall_, he willed silently to the wind, his voice gone in every sense. _You will never be lost in my thoughts. I may only hope I am not lost in yours._

And in the distance, his only response was the wind and the cold, cold chill of Beira's reign. A change was coming, one he neither awaited not feared. It simply was. Like the darkness in his heart, some things were unwavering.

Quietly, Irial blew a plume of frosted smoke. And allowed the cold to take him.


End file.
